I 




Class _ 



PRACTICAL 



SERMONS: 



DESIGNED FOR 



VACANT CONGREGATIONS AND FAMILIES. 



ALBERT BARNES. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
HENRY PERKINS, 

134 CHESTNUT STREET. 
1841. 



#. 






^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S41, by 

Albert Barnes, 

in the Office of the Clerk of the District Court of the Eastern District of 

Pennsylvania. 



Ji % vl 



/ 



STEREOTYPED T5V L. JOHNSON. 
PRINTED BY T. K. & P. G. COLLINS, PHILADELPHIA. 



PEEFACE. 



The title of this volume sufficiently indicates its 
design. It is published, because it is supposed that 
there is a want of such sermons constantly occur- 
ring. There are numerous congregations in this 
country, which, unhappily, have not the regular 
preaching of the gospel, and in which, in order 
to maintain public worship, it is necessary to 
make use of printed sermons. It is not supposed 
that these are better sermons than have before 
been published for such an object, but that there 
might be an advantage in having a greater variety; 
and that an interest might exist in behalf of those 
recently published which could not be excited for 
even a better volume that has been frequently pe- 
rused. There are not a few families, also, it is 
supposed, which would be interested in a volume 
of sermons, and in which, it is hoped, good might 
be done by their perusal. 

3 



4 PREFACE. 

The discourses in this volume are wholly prac- 
tical. They were intended to be such as would 
be adapted to impress on the mind the importance 
and necessity of personal religion, and to urge the 
necessity of a holy life, as the first great duty of 
man. There are no sermons in the volume which 
professedly discuss the doctrines of Christianity; 
and no sentiments are intended to be advanced 
which would offend evangelical Christians of any 
denomination. The appeals, illustrations, and argu- 
ments to a holy life, are based on the supposition 
of the truth of the evangelical doctrines; but it 
was no part of the plan to discuss those doctrines, 
or to make them prominent. I may be permitted, 
perhaps, to say, in justice to myself, that, my usual 
manner of preaching to my own congregation is 
much more doctrinal in its character than the pe- 
rusal of these sermons might lead a reader to sup- 
pose. These are intentionally selected for their 
practical character. 

Albert Barnes. 

Washington Square, Philadelphia, 
June 16th, 1841. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Sermon I. The Freeness of the Gospel 7 

Rev. xxii. 17. And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that 
heareth say, Come. And let him that ia athirst, come. And whosoever 
will, let him take the water of life freely. 

Sermon II. The Love of God in the Gift of a Saviour 25 

John iii. 16. God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, 
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting 
life. 

Sermon III. TVhy will ye die? 41 

Ezek. xxxiii. 11. Say unto them, As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no 
pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his 
way and live ; turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways ; for why will ye die ? 

Sermon IV. The Deceit fulness of the Heart""* 58 

Jer. xvii. 9. The heart is deceitful above all things. 

Sermon V. Indecision in Religion ■ • • • • 75 

1 Kings xviii. 21. And Elijah came unto all the people and said, How long 
halt ye between two opinions'? If the Lord be God, follow him: but 
if Baal, then follow him. 

Sermon VI. The Reasons why Men are not Christians- 89 

Luke xiv. 18. I pray thee have me excused. 

Sermon VII. The Misery of forsaking God 103 

Jer. ii. 13. My people have committed two evils ; — they have forsaken me, 
the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cis- 
terns, that can hold no water. 

Sermon VIII. God is worthy of Confidence 116 

Job xxii. 21. Acquaint now thyself with him, and be at peace. 

Sermon IX. Repentance 132 

Acts xvii. 30. And the times of this ignorance God winked at; but now 
commandeth all men every where to repent. 

Sermon X. Salvation Easy 148 

Matt. xi. 30. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light. 

Sermon XI. The Principles on which a Profession of 

Religion should be made. No. 1 164 

2 Cor. vi. 17, 13. Wherefore come cut from among them, and be ye sepa- 
rate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive 
you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daugh- 
ters, saith the Lord Almighty. 

1* 5 



fi CONTENTS. 

° Page 

Sermon XII. The Principles on which a Profession of 

Religion should be made. J\o. 2 i»i 

2 Cor vi 17,18. Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye sepa- 
ters', saith the Lord Almighty. 

Sermon XIII. Enemies of the Cross of Christ. No. 1..-1W 

^eve^^ 

Sermon XIV. Enemies of the Cross of Christ. No. 2.-208 

Phil iii 18. For many walk, of whom I have told you often and now 
you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ. 

Sermon XV. Enemies of the Cross of Christ. No. 3.-221 

Phil iii 18 19 For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now 
teil you even weepTng, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ, 
whose end is destruction. 

Sermon XVI. The Bide of Christianity, in regard to 

Conformity to the World *** 

Rom. xii. 2. And be not conformed to this world. 

Sermon XVII. The Blessings of a Benignant Spirit- -252 

Col. iii. 12. Put on, therefore, as the elect of God— kindness. 

Sermon XVIII. Secret Prayer 286 

Matt vi 6. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, .and jhen 
thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy 
Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly. 

Sermon XIX. The Sabbath 281 

Ex. xx. 8. Remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it holy. 

Sermon XX. Secret Faults ..-296 

Psalm xix. 12. Who can understand his errors! Cleanse thou me from 
secret faults. 

Sermon XXI. Preparation to meet Go'd 3U 

Amos iv. 12. Prepare to meet thy God. 

Sermon XXII. The Burden of Dumah "325 

Isa xxi 11, 12. The burden of Dumah. He calleth to me out of s»eir. 
Watchman, what of the night? ^ c ft n ^£%"l?U^ 
watchman said, The morning cometh, and also the night, it J e w 
quire, enquire ye. Return, come. 

Sermon XXIII. The Harvest Past * 342 

Jer. viii. 20. The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not 
saved. 



PRACTICAL SERMONS. 



SERMON I. 

THE FREENESS OF THE GOSPEL. 

Rev. xxii. 17. And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him 
that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst, Come. And whoso- 
ever will, let him take the water of life freely. 

The obvious sentiment of this beautiful passage of 
Scripture is, that the offers of salvation are made freely 
to all men, and that the invitation is to be pressed on the 
attention by all the means which can be employed. To 
this sentiment, I propose at this time to invite your atten- 
tion. 

The figure of "the water of life" which John employs 
in the text, is one that often occurs in the Scriptures to 
represent the mercy of God towards mankind. Thus 
Isaiah (xxxv. 6) in speaking of the times of the Messiah 
says, " Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the 
tongue of the dumb sing : for in the wilderness shall waters 
break out, and streams in the desert. And the parched 
ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs 
of water." And again (xli. 18), "I will open rivers in 
high places, and fountains in the midst of the vallies : I 
will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry 
land springs of water." And again (Iv. 1), "Ho, every 
one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath 
no money ; come ye, buy and eat ; yea, come, buy wine 
and milk without money, and without price." The idea 
in all these passages is, that the blessings of the gospel 
would resemble fountains and running streams ; as if in 
the solitary, sandy desert, streams of water, pure, refresh- 
ing, and ample, should suddenly break forth, and should 
fill the desolate plains with verdure, and should gladden 

7 



S mACTICAL SERMONS. 

the heart of the fainting traveller, — streams of which each 
coming caravan might partake without money and with- 
out charge. In a world which in regard to its real com- 
forts is not unaptly compared to a waste of pathless sands, 
the blessings of the gospel would burst forth like cooling, 
perennial fountains ; and man like a weary and thirsty 
pilgrim might partake and be happy, — as the traveller 
sits down by such a fountain and slakes his thirst in the 
desert. 

In the text, however, the particular idea is, that men 
are freely invited to partake of the blessings of salvation. 
They are invited by the Holy Spirit, and by the bride — 
the church — to come. So free is salvation that even he 
who hears of it may go and say to kindred and friend, 
' come.' They who thirst may come:— they who are 
pressed down by the consciousness of the want of some- 
thing like this to make them happy, who are satisfied 
that happiness can nowhere else be found, who thirst 
for salvation under the consciousness of sin, and the 
feeling that the " world can never give the bliss for 
which they sigh," are invited to come ; and all who 
choose may come and partake freely of the waters of 
life. — John saw in vision (ch. xxii. 1 ) " a pure river of 
water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne 
of God and the Lamb." To that pure and clear river 
of salvation, men are invited to come freely. There 
they may slake their thirst. There the desires of the 
immortal mind, where all earthly things fail, may be 
satisfied. 

It is not my purpose in this discourse — though my 
text might seem to invite to it — to dwell on the fact that 
the gospel is offered to all men ; that the Redeemer died 
for all ; that the Eternal Father is willing to save all ; 
or that ample provision is made for all who will come. 
On these points, it is sufficient for my present purpose to 
say, that my text declares that, " whosoever will may 
take the water of life freely •" that God has elsewhere 
said, " Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the 
waters ;" that the Redeemer has said, " come unto me 
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give 
you rest." It is enough that God has solemnly sworn, 
" as I live I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, 



THE FREENESS OF THE GOSPEL. 9 

but that the wicked turn from his way and live ;" that 
it is solemnly declared that Christ " by the grace of God 
tasted death for every man ;" that he is " the propitiation 
for the sins of the whole world," and that the Saviour 
has given the assurance that, " every one that asketh 
receiveth, and he that seeketh findeth, and to him that 
knocketh it shall be opened." It would be sufficient to 
prove this, if there were nothing else, that the Lord Jesus 
when about to ascend to heaven, said to his disciples, 
" Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to 
every creature — he that believeth and is baptized shall 
be saved." I ask no higher proof that the plan of 
salvation is adapted to all, and that it contains ample 
blessings for all. I desire no other argument to show 
that the doors of heaven are opened wide, and that the 
Father of mercies waits to save men. I ask no other 
warrant for making the offer of salvation to as many of 
the lost children of men as I may ever be enabled to do, 
or of giving the assurance to man, wherever I may meet 
him, that God is willing to save him from eternal death. 

Taking our high stand, therefore, on these incontro- 
vertible positions, and with these full and free offers of 
life clearly in view, my desire is, to press the invitation 
in the text on your attention. I wish to state some of 
the appeals which the gospel makes to you as individuals. 
I wish to come to you and reason with you, and show 
you why you should embrace it ; and I shall be satisfied 
if I can so vary the form of the invitation that my beau- 
tiful text may find its way, as it ought to be allowed to, 
to the heart. 

Why then should you embrace the offer of salvation 
in the gospel ? In what way is this invitation pressed on 
your attention ? I answer, it is done, 

I. In the first place, by your own conviction of the 
truth and the obligations of religion. I mean that the 
convictions of the understanding are on the side of re- 
ligion, and that Christianity makes its appeals to you 
with the presumption that its claims are seen and known 
to be right. We come to you, when we preach the 
gospel, with the assurance that we carry with us the 
decisions of the understanding, though we may fail in 
subduing the will or in winning the heart. We come 



10 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

to you as to those who have no disposition to cavil with 
the argument for the truth of religion ; who are willing 
to be numbered among the supporters and the defenders 
of the gospel ; and who are cherishing the purpose more 
or less distinctly formed, at some time to be Christians. 
I refer to facts such as the following. 

(1.) You believe that Christianity is true. You admit 
this as a truth which you are not disposed to controvert, 
and which you are willing should be understood by your 
children and friends to be one of the settled truths on which 
your mind has no doubt. You would be unwilling that 
a wife, a sister, a child, or a parent, should think otherwise 
of you than that this is the deliberate conviction of your 
minds, a conviction in which you purpose to live, and to 
die. You wish to be understood as having no sympathy 
with an atheist, an infidel, a scoffer. With them you 
have not been ranked ; with them you purpose not to be 
found. When I say this, I mean that it is the conviction 
of the most of those to whom the gospel is preached. 
This conviction may be the result of education ; or, it 
may have arisen from the habit of long and patient reflec- 
tion ; or, it may have been formed from the observation of 
the effects of religion on the minds and lives of others ; or, 
it may be possibly a conviction whose origin you cannot 
well define ; or, it may have been the result of an extended 
and patient examination of the evidences of the Christian 
religion. It is not material to my argument now, what is 
the origin of it, or by what arguments you would be dis- 
posed to maintain it. The fact is all that is of importance 
now ; and that fact is, that the divine origin of Christianity 
is one of those truths which you do not presume to call 
in question, and which you do not wish to be understood 
as doubting. You feel that a part of your reputation is 
involved in holding the opinion that Christianity is true. 

I assume, therefore, that those whom I address at this 
time are disposed to admit that Christianity is true, and 
that it has a claim on their hearts, and lives. It is not 
to be presumed of any man, without proof, that he is an 
atheist or an infidel, any more than it is, that he is a liar 
or a murderer. It is not true that the mass of men in 
any community are infidels or atheists ; nor is it to be 
presumed of any one that he is an infidel unless he gives 



THE FKEENESS OF THE GOSPEL. 1 1 

us proof of it that shall be irrefragable in his profession 
or his life, — proof that would satisfy a court and jury on 
the point. There is something about Christianity which 
commends it wherever it comes, and wherever its effects 
are seen, as true, and pure, and good, and adapted to the 
condition of mankind ; and wherever it is long proclaimed 
it secures the popular voice in its favor, and constrains the 
intellect, if not the heart of man, to bow before it. As a 
matter of fact, infidelity is usually the work of time and 
of sin. Men who have been trained under the influence 
of religion, do not speculatively cast off the authority of 
God until they have formed a purpose to live in a manner 
which he forbids. Youth usually adheres to its belief of 
the truth of religion until it is enticed by the love of sin, 
or by the seductive arts of aged infidelity. The young 
are full of sincerity, and openness, and confidence, and 
they admit the claims of the principles of virtue and re- 
ligion. We are therefore to look for infidels and atheists, 
not among the young, and the ingenuous, but among 
the profligate, the abandoned, the profane and the sen- 
sual. These all are infidels as a matter of course. The 
speculative belief of Christianity and the sanctuary were 
forsaken together, and infidelity and vice became at the 
same moment bosom companions. 

Now it is to this belief of the truth of Christianity that 
I make my appeal. The gospel addresses you as if you 
knew and admitted it to be true, and asks you to "come." 
It is not the claim of a new and unknown religion. It 
is not the voice of a stranger that invites you. It is that 
in which you have been trained ; a religion whose effects 
you have witnessed from childhood ; which has the 
sanction of a father and mother, and of the best friends 
which you now have, or have had on earth. It is that, 
whose effects you see in the community around you ; 
whose consolations and sustaining power you may have 
often witnessed in trial ; nay, whose hopes and joys you 
may have seen exemplified on the death-bed of your 
most beloved friend. It simply asks you, in a barren 
world, to embrace consolation which you know to have 
an existence ; to take the waters of life which you believe 
flow freely for all; to come to a Saviour who you 



12 PRACTICAL SERMOKS. 

believe poured out his precious blood that you might 
live forever. 

I know it may be said that this is the work of education, 
and that I am appealing to a mere prejudice. But I reply, 
that it is not with all a mere prejudice, nor does the argu- 
ment which I urge preclude the supposition of the most 
close and patient examination. I argue from the admitted 
truth of Christianity on whatever ground that may be 
conceded. But suppose that it is the result of education, I 
would observe that there are opinions and principles that 
have been inculcated by education that constitute a just 
ground of appeal. To what in most instances will you 
trace the felt and conceded obligation of truth, of chastity, 
of honesty, of patriotism, of modesty, but to the influences 
of education ? Are they valueless because they have been 
instilled with parental care from the cradle ? Shall they be 
rejected and despised because they thus depend on lessons 
that have been inculcated with anxious solicitude from 
very childhood ? Or is it, and should it not be presumptive 
proof of their value, that they are the lessons which a 
venerated father has taught ; that they are the sentiments 
of a much loved mother ; that they are virtues which give 
ornament and grace to a sister, and that they command the 
assent of the community at large ? He walks safely who 
walks in the ways of virtue ; he cannot greatly err who 
desires to please his Maker and to live for heaven. 

(2.) Again. Religion appeals to you not only by its 
admitted truth, but by your own reason. This is what 
I mean. Your reason is always on the side of God and 
of his claims. It always approves the service of God, no 
matter how soon that service is begun, and no matter with 
what self-denial and fidelity it is performed. It always 
condemns the opposite, no matter how plausibly the 
neglect of God may be urged, and no matter what may 
be the apparent and temporary pleasure found in the ways 
of sin. Reason never lends its voice in favor of atheism, 
or scepticism, or the neglect of religion, or sensuality, or 
crime. It is too faithful to the God who has formed the 
human understanding, and who has made it capable of 
pronouncing on truth and duty. There is not one of the 
subjects which reason investigates that does not utter a 



THE FREENESS OP THE GOSPEL. 13 

loud and distinct voice in favor of virtue, of religion, and 
of God. There is not a star, however faint or obscure ; 
not a comet, however remotely it may travel ; not a petal 
of a flower or an insect's wing ; not a fibre of a muscle 
or a nerve, that does not rebuke all the feelings of the 
atheist and the scoffer. There is not a ray of light or a 
dew drop ; not a living thing or a grain of sand that can 
be made tributary to the argument of the atheist. And 
there is not one solitary consideration which reason can 
suggest that will justify the neglect of God, and the con- 
cerns of the soul for a single moment. I am sure that, 
whatever may be the feelings of my hearers, I always 
have their understanding with me when I urge on them 
the claims of God. I never speak to men in the name of 
my Master without the utmost assurance that their 
reason approves of all that I urge from the Bible, and 
that it would approve their course should they one and 
all at once become decided Christians. If you doubt 
this, show me one man who in his sober reflections ever 
regretted his having become a Christian. Point me to one 
even in the flames of martyrdom, or on a bed of death, 
or in a career of prosperity, who regretted that he had so 
soon or so entirely given himself to the service of God. 
Tell me of one whose reason, when the sober moment of 
death approached, condemned him for having sought to 
live to the honor of God ; or tell me of one — yes, even 
one, who has left the most gay and splendid circles of life ; 
who has gone from the scenes of brilliant but hollow 
pleasure to the cross ; who has given up the world for 
Christian duties and self-denials however arduous, who 
ever yet regretted it. No, that Christian remains yet to 
be found who has left a gay and a wicked world, and has 
chosen the service of God, who has for one moment 
regretted the choice, and whose whole soul has not 
approved the most self-denying service in the cause of 
the Redeemer. And I am certain, my hearers, that I 
now have your reason in favor of the appeal which I 
make that you would come and take the water of life. 
I am certain, and so are you, that should you one and all 
hear this appeal, there can be no period in all your future 
being when your reason would not approve the deed. 
No, come honor or dishonor ; good report or evil report ; 
2 



14 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

poverty or wealth ; sickness or health ; storms and tem- 
pests, or calms and sunshine ; come life or death : come 
calamity when and where it may, you would bless God 
that you had resolved to drink of the water of the river 
of life. 

(3.) Equally clear is it that the conscience is on the side 
of religion and the claims of God. I am always sure that 
it is in my favor when I urge the law and the claims of my 
Maker. I am sure that it is never at peace until peace is 
found in the gospel. The Christian has always a calm 
and an approving conscience in view of the fact that he 
has become a Christian. He has no misgivings. He has 
no feeling at anytime that he has done wrong in doing it. 
He cannot have ; he never will have. But the sinner never 
has an approving conscience in view of the fact that he 
lives in the neglect of religion. He may be callous and 
insensible, but that is not to have an approving conscience. 
Nor will his conscience ever approve the neglect of reli- 
gion, or give him peace for having refused to come and 
drink of the proffered water of life. 

Here then is the first reason which I urge, or the first 
ground of my appeal to-day. It is an appeal drawn from 
your admission of the truth of Christianity ; from your 
understanding, and from the monitions of your own con- 
science. By these, Christianity urges you to return to God. 
By these, it presses its claims on your attention. It is no 
stranger that pleads, no foreigner, no religion of doubtful 
nature or doubtful claims. You admit its truth ; you 
admit its claims ; your conscience responds to its demands. 
Yielding, you would follow the dictates of your own un- 
derstanding; embracing it, you would do that which you 
know your own conscience would forever approve. 

II. In the second place, it is urged upon your attention 
and acceptance, by your wants and necessities. You need 
such a religion. It is adapted to the immortal mind thirst- 
ing for happiness, and you are conscious that some such 
system as that of the gospel alone can meet those immortal 
desires. My position is, that such are the obvious wants 
of men that they are conscious that they need some such 
salvation as the gospel furnishes and offers to them. 

(1.) I mean that when a man honestly looks at his own 
heart and life he is conscious of depravity, and feels his 



THE FREENESS OF THE GOSPEL. 15 

need of the pardoning mercy of God, and that this sense 
of the need of pardon should lead him to embrace this 
plan which proposes forgiveness. That the heart is 
depraved and polluted is, I presume, at some period of 
life, the conviction of every man. Never do I urge a 
doctrine of the Bible that I am more sure commends 
itself to every one of my hearers, than when I preach the 
doctrine of depravity, and when I appeal to themselves 
for the consciousness of its truth. There are moments 
when the most hardened, and gay, and thoughtless have 
some misgivings that all is not right, and that their lives 
are such as to expose them to the displeasure of God. 
There are moments when there is pensiveness, sadness, 
melancholy ; when somehow the remembrance of guilt 
troubles the soul ; when sins long since forgotten seem 
to come in groups and clusters as if conjured up by some 
magic wand ; when the whole sky seems overcast with 
a gathering tempest. ; and when there is a fearful appre- 
hension that all that the Bible has said about sin, and 
woe, and a judgment to come, is true. At one time it 
may be a momentary conviction coming over the com- 
placencies of the heart, and the joyous scenes of life, like 
a dark cloud flying suddenly over the disk of the sun, 
and that soon passes away. At another it is like the 
gentle and quiet shades of an evening settling on the 
mind, on which the sun does not rise for weeks and 
months, leaving the soul in long and distressing sadness. 
At another it is like a tempest that rolls, and flashes, and 
thunders along the sky. At another it is like a dense and 
dark night — a night without moon or stars, and where 
the soul is involved in impenetrable gloom. 

Now the gospel appeals to men by this conscious need 
of pardon. Man wants peace. He wants light. He 
wants forgiveness. And the gospel comes and professes 
its readiness to extend forgiveness, and to furnish relief 
for a mind thus darkened and sad. Man is conscious 
that he is a sinner ; and when he feels that, I ask no 
other proof that the gospel is a scheme fitted to him than 
to be permitted to go to him in that state, and to tell him 
that through that plan, those sins though like scarlet may 
be white as snow ; though red like crimson, that they may 



16 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

be as wool. The gospel then meets man as running 
streams and fountains that break forth in the desert, do 
the caravan ; and is as much fitted to that dark and be- 
nighted soul as such fountains are to the fainting traveller 
there. 

(2.) I mean further, that when men look at the trials 
of life, they feel the need of some system like that of the 
gospel that shall be fitted to give consolation. It is in 
vain for men to attempt to avoid trial. No strength how- 
ever great ; no plan however wise ; no talent however 
brilliant ; no wealth however unbounded ; no schemes 
of pleasure or amusement however skilfully planned, will 
drive disappointment, and care, and sickness, and pain 
from our world. Life is after all a weary pilgrimage, 
and is burdened with many woes. Man's heart is filled 
with anxiety, and his steps are weary as he walks onward 
to the grave. Now I mean that man feels the necessity 
of some balm of life ; some alleviation of cares ; something 
that shall perform the friendly office of dividing the cares 
of this world, and that shall put an upholding hand beneath 
our suffering and exhausted nature. Men seek universally 
some such comforter and alleviator of care and sorrow, 
and if they do not find it, life is a weary and wretched 
journey. One retreats to the academic grove, and seeks 
consolation in philosophy — in calm contemplation, far 
away from the bustle and tumult of life. Another goes 
up the sides of Parnassus, and drinks from the Castalian 
fount — seeking it in the pursuits of elegant literature, and 
in the company of the Muses. Another flies to the temple 
of Mammon and seeks it in the pursuit and possession of 
gold. Another aims to find it in the brilliant and fascinat- 
ing world of song and the dance ; another in the pursuits 
of professional life ; another in orgies of the god of wine, 
and the cup that is supposed to drown every care. In all 
these there is a sense of the need of something that shall 
give comfort ; something that shall wipe away falling 
tears ; something that shall bind up broken, and pour 
consolation into heavy hearts. Amidst these things prof- 
fering consolation, the gospel also comes, and offers to the 
weary, the heavy-laden, and the sad, its consolations. 
That also offers support ; proposes a plan of wiping away 



THE FREENESS OF THE GOSPEL. 17 

tears ; of comforting the hearts of the sad, and points the 
sufferer to the river of life, and asks him to come and take 
freely — and never fails. 

(3.) I mean further, that when men look at the short- 
ness of life, and at the certainty of death, there is a con- 
sciousness that some such system as that of the gospel is 
needed, and that by this deep consciousness the gospel 
appeals to men. " We all do fade as a leaf," and we 
cannot but be conscious that however blooming and 
vigorous we may now be, the time is not far remote 
when we shall be cut down as the flower, and wither 
like the green herb. Our day, even in its highest meri- 
dian glory, hastens, as Wolsey said he did, to its setting ; 
and in spite of all the aid of philosophy, and all the 
amusements of life, men will feel sad at the prospect of 
death. A death-bed is a melancholy place. The parting 
with friends forever is a sad and mournful scene. The 
closing up of all the plans of. life, and the starting off on a 
journey to a dark and unknown world from which "no 
traveller returns," is an important and a deeply-affecting 
event. The dying chill ; the clammy sweat ; the fading 
eye ; the enfeebled delirious mind, are all sad and gloomy 
things. The coinn is a gloomy abode ; and the grave, 
for him who has reposed on a bed of down, is a cold and 
cheerless resting-place. The thought of corruption and 
decay until the frame, once so beautiful and active, is all 
gone back to its native dust, is a gloomy thought, and 
one that should make a deep impression on the human 
mind. 

Now men may blunt the force of these thoughts as 
much as they can. They may fly from them to business ; 
to their professions ; to amusement ; to sin — but all will 
not do. Nature will be true to herself, and true to the 
designs of God, and it cannot be but that when a man 
thinks of the grave, there should be a " fond desire," a 
" longing after immortality." Man would not die for- 
ever. He would live again. He would be recovered 
from that horrid, chilly sleep, from that cold grave, from 
that repulsive stillness and gloom. There is an inex- 
tinguishable desire to live again ; a feeling which we can 
never get rid of, that God did not form the wondrous 



18 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

powers of mind for the transient pleasures of this brief 
life. Man feels his need of the hope of heaven ; and 
when the gospel comes to him and invites him to drink 
of the river of life, and to live forever, he cannot hut feel 
that it is a system adapted to his whole nature, and is 
just such a system as his circumstances demand. The 
invitation of the gospel is one that meets all the deep 
aspirations of his soul, and is just fitted to his condition. 
It is such as a dying and yet a deathless being ought to 
desire; it is fitted to meet the woes and sorrows of a 
wretched world. And all that is in man that is great, 
all his desire of consolation and of immortal happiness, 
prompts him to come and take the water of life ; and the 
gospel designs to keep the truth of the guilt and the sor- 
row of the world before the mind, to induce the sufferer 
and the sinner to come and embrace pardon and peace. 

Thus far I have not adverted to the direct invitations 
of the gospel. I have spoken rather of the character and 
circumstances of man. I turn now to one other topic^ 
and with that I shall close. 

III. I refer, therefore, in the third place, to the special 
direct invitations in the Scriptures to embrace the gospel. 
I shall dwell mainly on those referred to in the text, but 
shall, in a rapid manner, glance at some others also. I 
observe, then — 

That God the Father invites you, and presses the gos- 
pel on your attention. On this I need not dwell. If any 
one doubts that the eternal Father invites men to come 
to him, and is willing that the wanderer should return, 
let him ponder the parable of the prodigal son. In that 
most beautiful and touching of all compositions, how ten- 
derly and pathetically are the feelings of God portrayed 
in the joy of the aged father when he sees his son afar 
off; when he goes forth to meet him, and when he greets 
that long-lost son in an affectionate embrace. With such 
joy does God the Father come forth to meet the returning 
sinner ; and with such desires does he proffer pardon to 
the guilty, and a home to the wandering. Open your 
Bibles. Is there one of the human race, however guilty 
and wretched, to whom God does not extend the offer of 
mercy ? Is there one who has gone off so far that he is 



THE F'REENESS OF THE GOSPEL. 19 

not invited to return ? Is there one who would not be 
welcomed should he again come back to his Father's 
house and arms ? Q, no. There is not one. God, the 
eternal Father, all along your way has lifted up the voice 
of invitation and entreaty, and is saying every where and 
every day to man, " Let him return to the Lord, and he 
will have mercy upon him, and to God, for he will abun- 
dantly pardon." My hearer, all along your way, from 
the cradle to the present hour, God the Father has uttered 
but one voice, the voice of mercy ; he has expressed but 
one wish — it is that you should turn and live. Heaven, 
he has offered you with the fulness of its glory ; and by 
all that is there of peace, and beauty, and bliss ; by all 
that is valuable in his favor and attractive in his own 
house, he speaks to you and says, " Whosoever will, let 
him take the water of life freely." 

So has spoken the Son of God. Need I dwell on this ? 
To invite sinners to return, he came forth from the bosom 
of the Father, and dwelt among men. It was not be- 
cause he was not happy that he became an exile from 
the skies ; it was not because he did not wear a crown 
that was brilliant enough, or sway a sceptre over an em- 
pire that was not vast enough ; it was because here was 
a race of lost and ruined sinners which might be restored ; 
because they needed some such interposition to save them 
from eternal ruin. And he came. And what was his 
life ; what was his ministry ; what were his sufferings 
and toils, but unwearied invitations to the guilty and the 
wretched? "Behold, I stand at the door and knock," 
said he, " if any man will open the door, I will come in 
to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." " Come 
unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest." " Every one that asketh receiveth, 
and he that seeketh findeth ; and to him that knocketh it 
shall be opened." Did Christ ever utter a word that ex- 
pressed an unwillingness that the most guilty and vile 
should be saved ? Did he ever spurn from his presence 
one broken-hearted and penitent sinner ? Lives there a 
man in all the regions where Christian light illuminates 
the face of the world, who can doubt for one moment 
that the Redeemer desires his salvation, and invites him 
to come and take the water of life freely ? No, sinner, 



20 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

even you know that if you go to him, " all covered o'er" 
as you may be with crime, he will welcome you, and 
say, ' Son, daughter, be of good cheer, thy sins be for- 
given thee.' 

So speaks the Holy Ghost. " The Spirit says, come." 
That sacred Spirit, the Comforter, sent by the ascended 
Redeemer to awaken, convict, and convert the soul, says 
" Come," and says so to all. He comes to teach men 
their need of a Saviour ; to acquaint them with their 
guilt ; to guide them to the cross ; and all his work on 
the soul is to impress that short word in the fulness 
of its meaning on the heart — " Come." To impress 
that invitation, to lead men to see its value and its 
power, he visits the heart, and shows it its guilt and 
its corruptions. For that, he awakens the mind of the 
careless and the secure in their sins— the pleasure-loving, 
the gay, the worldly, the ambitious, and shows them the 
need of a better portion than this life can give. For that, 
he, in a mysterious manner, makes your mind pensive 
and sad when in the gay scenes of life, and when flowers 
seem to be strewed and fragrance to be breathed all 
around you. For that, he produces the uneasiness of 
mind when pleasures " pall upon the sense," and when 
your bosom is conscious of its need of more elevated joys 
than this world can give. For that, he produces the sense 
of sadness when you have returned from your daily toils 
weary with the cares and the disappointments of life ; 
when you have sought and obtained the plaudits of the 
world, and find all an empty bubble ; when a man has 
built him houses and planted vineyards, and made him 
gardens and orchards, and gathered silver and gold, the 
peculiar treasure of kings and of the provinces, and when 
vanity of vanities is seen written on them all. To press 
that invitation to come to the water of life, the Holy 
Spirit awakens in the heart the sense of sin, and shows 
you the need of pardon. For that, he convinces you of 
your past guilt ; recals to your mind the lessons of child- 
hood ; makes the mind pensive or sad when you think of 
death, of God, of the judgment, of eternity. Alike in 
the still and gentle influences of that Spirit on the mind, 
and in the terrors of that moment when he overwhelms 
the soul with the deep consciousness of guilt, the object 



THE FREENESS OF THE GOSPEL. 21 

is to impress upon the heart the invitation " Come." I 
said, ' In the still and gentle influences of that Spirit on 
the mind.' You have seen how the pliant osier bends 
before the zephyr, and how the harvest field gently waves 
in a summer's eve. So gently, and often amidst such 
scenes, too, does the Spirit of God incline the mind to 
seek better things than this world can give — in heaven. 
So calm, so sweet, so pure, are those influences which in- 
cline the mind to thought, to prayer, to God. I said, 
6 In the terrors of that moment when he overwhelms 
the soul with the deep consciousness of guilt.' You 
have seen the clouds grow dark in the western sky. 
They roll inward on themselves, and throw their infold- 
ing ample volumes over the heavens. The lightnings 
play, and the thunder rolls, and nature is in commotion, 
and the tornado sweeps over hill and vale, and the oak 
crashes on the mountain. So also, and in such scenes, 
too, the stout-hearted sinner trembles under the influ- 
ences of the Spirit of God, and in anticipation of the 
future judgment. He hears the thunder of justice about 
to condemn him, and sees the lightnings flash ready to 
devour him. But it is yet a scene of mercy. It is not 
to condemn, it is to warn him. It is a kind messenger 
sent forth from God — the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, the 
admonisher, whether in the stillness or the storm, saying 
to the sinner, " Come — take the water of life freely." 

So the " bride" says, " Come." But what is this ? " I 
John," said the disciple in Patmos, " saw the holy city, 
New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, 
prepared as a bride for her husband." Rev. xxi. 2. It is 
the voice of the bride, " the Lamb's wife" — of the church 
triumphant, the church in heaven, that speaks and in- 
vites you to come. It is not merely that the church, by 
her ministry, her ordinances, and her friends ; by her ap- 
peals and persuasions in the sanctuary invites — though 
that is true — it is that the church redeemed ; the church 
in heaven ; the church in white robes before the throne ; 
the church now adorned in heaven as a bride, invites you 
to come. And what is that church that thus invites you ? 
What claims has she on your attention ? Why should her 
voice be heard ? — Who compose that church ? The church 
in heaven is composed of those who on earth tried both 



22 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

religion and the world ; and who can now speak from 
deep experience alike of the trials and the joys of the 
Christian faith. It is a triumphant church that has been 
exposed to fiery persecutions, and that has survived them 
all. A church that has known what it is to be poor and 
persecuted on earth, and what it is in heaven to be bless- 
ed — and that as the result of all now invites you to come 
and share its triumphs and its joys bought with blood. 
Whom does the eye of faith see in that church in heaven 
that invites you ? A father may be there ; a mother ; a 
sister ; a lovely babe. That venerated father, whose cold 
remains you bedewed with tears, and over whose grave 
you still go to weep, is there, and says, < Come, my son, 
and take the water of life freely/ That tender mother, 
that often spoke to you in childhood of Jesus and of 
heaven, still says, 'Come, my daughter, and take the 
water of life freely.' That much-loved sister, now clothed 
in white, and walking beside the river of salvation, says 
still, '■ Come, my brother, and take the water of life 
freely.' That sweet smiling babe stretches out its hands 
from the world of glory, and speaks and says, * Come, 
father, mother, come and take the water of life freely.' 
Ail that church redeemed — that church made up of pro- 
phets, apostles, confessors, martyrs; that church that is now 
amidst the glories of heaven, still says, < Come, there yet 
is room. Heaven's ample mansions shall furnish other 
places of rest. There are harps unstrung which your 
hands may strike. There are eternal fountains where 
you may drink. There are blest spirits there that will 
hail your coming, and rejoice in your joy.' All heaven 
invites. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost — the 
one living and one blessed God — says, " Come." The 
angels, the spirits of just men made perfect, and all your 
departed pious kindred, all unite in the invitation, and 
say, < Come, come, and take the water of life freely.' 

Need I say that this voice of invitation is echoed back 
in your ears from this world ? So speaks to you a pious 
father ; a tender mother ; a sister, a friend. So speak 
the living to you, and so addresses you the remembered 
voice of the dead. Go walk among the graves. Beneath 
your feet, in the sacred sweet slumbers of a Christian's 
death, lies a much-loved mother. How still ! How lovely 



THE FREENESS OF THE GOSPEL. 23 

a mother's grave ! How the memory delights to go back 
to the nursery ; the fireside : the sick-bed ; the anxious 
care of a mother ! How it loves to recall the gentle look ; 
the eye of love ; the kiss at night of a mother. She 
sleeps now in death, but from that grave is it fancy that 
we still hear a voice, ' My beloved son ! my much-loved 
daughter ! Come — come, and take the water of life freely?' 
No. Of all the departed pious dead; of every living 
Christian ; of all holy beings, there is not one who does 
not invite you to come. There is not one who would not 
rejoice in seeing you clothed in white, and with palms of 
victory in your hands in heaven. Yes, in their hearts, 
and in their eternal dwelling-places there yet is room — 
room — ample room for all to come. 

See now what pleads. The eternal Father ; the dying 
Saviour ; the sacred Spirit ; all heaven ; earth ; the grave ; 
conscience ; reason ; all the universe invites and pleads. 
And what hinders ? A word will tell ail. The fear of 
shame. The love of gaiety. The fascinations of amuse- 
ment — all temporary, unsatisfactory, dying. A scheme 
of ambition ; a plan of gain ; an arrangement for plea- 
sure — all valueless when compared with heaven. For 
such things the ear is turned away, and the voice inviting 
to heaven is unheeded. 0, how deluded ! To suffer the 
great interests of eternity to be neglected, and the immor- 
tal welfare of the soul to be hazarded for nameless trifles ! 
Of the folly of this course I could say much. But why 
should I say any thing ? Who does not see it ? I will 
make, therefore, but one other observation, and then close. 
The river of life will roll on forever. Its pure 
waters, clear as ciystal, shall forever gladden and refresh 
the inhabitants of heaven. But on the banks of that 
river you may never recline. Far away from that pure 
stream — far away from all the bliss of heaven — far away 
from the redeemed and happy throng assembled there, 
shall be your eternal abode, and never again shall you 
hear the invitation, " Whosoever will, let him come and 
take the water of life freely." To-day, all the universe 
invites you. The Father, the Son, and the Spirit, say, 
" Come." The church on earth and the church redeemed 
say, " Come." The friend that has gone to the skies, and 
the friend on earth, says, " Come." The tender father ; 



24 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

the affectionate mother ; the pastor ; the brother ; the 
sister, all say, " Come." Your own nature ; your con- 
viction of the truth ; your sense of sin ; your dread of 
death ; your inextinguishable desire of immortality ; your 
conviction that " this world can never give the bliss for 
which you sigh," — all these emotions and feelings say, 
" Come." The whole universe joins in the invitation, 
and voices from distant worlds mingle in this sanctuary 
to-day, saying to you now, " Come, take the water of 
life freely." To-morrow, how changed may be the 
scene ! Death's cold fingers may have felt after the strings 
of life, and chilled them, and your soul may be beyond 
hope and heaven. Not a voice from all the universe may 
invite you to leave the dark abodes where the wicked 
dwell, and to take the waters of life. that word, 
' free salvation V — What would you give to hear it 
borne on the breeze in the world of despair ! But it will 
be too late. Sealed will be the lips of the eternal Father : 
hushed the voice of the Redeemer ; gone the influences 
of the Holy Spirit. The bride — the church — will have 
ceased to invite ; and neither father, nor mother, nor bro- 
ther, nor sister, nor pastor, nor friend, will ever say to 
you again, " Come, take the water of life freely." 



SERMON II. 

THE LOVE OF GOD IN THE GIFT OF A SAVIOUR. 

John III- 16. God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten 
Son, that whosoever belie veth in him should not perish, but have ever- 
lasting life. 

These are the words of the Redeemer. They express 
in the briefest space the substance of the gospel. No 
public speaker ever possessed the power of condensing 
the great principles of a system of truth into so narrow 
a compass as the Lord Jesus ; and his instructions abound 
with instances of this condensation. Such declarations 
were easily treasured up hi the memory, and were, there- 
fore, eminently adapted to the end which he had in view 
— the instruction and salvation of the mass of mankind. 
The terms of the text require no particular exposition ; 
and we shall proceed at once to the contemplation of 
the great truths which in so simple language it embodies. 
It affirms that the origin of the plan of salvation was the 
love of God ; that that love was of the highest degree — 
leading him to the gift of his only begotten Son ; and 
that it was of the widest extent — embracing the world. 
We shall consider these points in their order ; and shall 
thus have before us the outlines of the great system of 
the gospel. I do not suppose that it will be new to you. 
I have no truths, and perhaps no illustrations, which you 
have not often contemplated before. I present a system, 
however, on which, whether it be to you new or old, 
your eternal welfare depends; and which every consi- 
deration of gratitude, of self-interest, of obligation, and 
of hope, calls on you to embrace and love. 

I. The first proposition is, that the plan of salvation 
originated in the love of God. " God so loved the world, 
that he gave his only begotten Son." This idea, so simple 
in appearance, is at the basis of all just views of religion, 
and strikes far into different systems, and will modify or 
3 25 



26 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

control them. The following remarks, in illustration of 
it, will convey to you the thoughts which I wish to have 
impressed on your minds. 

The idea that God is a God of love, is not one that is 
very extensively embraced by mankind. Large classes 
of mankind suppose that if God were a benevolent being, 
he would have made a world perfectly happy and pure ; 
and the fact that sin and misery so extensively prevail, 
is, in their view, wholly at war with such a proposition. 
To them it furnishes no proof of his goodness that he 
provides remedies and means of deliverance from these 
evils, but they ask why was not the evil itself prevented, 
and why was there a necessity for a remedy ? A man is 
sick, and we tell him that the fact that remedies are pro- 
vided for the various maladies which afflict the body, is 
a proof of goodness, and he at once turns upon us in 
a maimer which we cannot well meet, and asks why was 
not the sickness itself prevented ? Why was there need 
of a remedy ? Would not higher benevolence have been 
evinced had pleurisies, and palsies, and fevers, and con- 
sumptions been unknown ? Why, he asks, was a system 
formed ever requiring such a device as that of a remedy ; 
why one that needs mending and repairing; why one 
that was not perfect without the toil and expense of 
mitigating evils, and repairing wastes? And this man 
leaves us, after all that we can say, with the feeling that 
the proof is very imperfect that God is a God of love ; 
and on such a mind the proposition that he so loved the 
world that he gave his only begotten Son, falls with little 
force. He feels, perhaps, in spite of himself, that back 
of all this there is something in the divine bosom that is 
remote from the proper exercise of love, and that a dying 
and a suffering world is fitted to neutralize all the argu- 
ment for benevolence which can be drawn from a reme- 
dial system. 

On another class of minds the same result is produced 
by a different train of thought ; a train of thought that is 
sometimes countenanced, I fear, by prevalent views in 
theology. With such minds the supposition is, that the 
Bible teaches that God is originally a stern and inexorable 
being ; that the attribute of justice is the central and con- 
trolling attribute of his character ; that in his nature all 



THE LOVE OP GOD IN THE GIFT OF A SAVIOUR. 27 

is dark, repulsive, and cold ; that he is indisposed to par- 
don, unrelenting in his claims, severe in his adjudications, 
and by nature deaf to the cry of the suffering and the 
penitent. That sustaining this character, and with these 
feelings, one more mild and kind than he has consented 
to become incarnate, and to suffer the unrelenting penalty 
of the law, in order, as a primary part of his work, to 
7?iake God kind and forgiving. That whatever inclina- 
tion to mercy there may be now in the character of God, 
it is the result of purchase ; that he is disposed to bestow 
only so much pardon as is bought ; that towards a part 
of the human race, as the result of that purchase, he is 
now mild and benignant, and that towards the unhappy 
remainder the original sternness of his character is un- 
mitigated, and that even the sufferings of the atonement 
have not relaxed the rigidity of his justice in regard to 
them. The feeling is, that God is now a different being 
from what he was before the atonement was made, and 
that he has been made mild and forgiving by the sacri- 
fice on the cross. 

Now, in opposition to these views, reflecting so much 
on the character of God, my text teaches that he was ori- 
ginally disposed to show mercy. His benevolence in 
the plan of salvation lies back of the gift of a Saviour, 
and prompted to it. It was love on the part of the 
eternal Father that led him to give his Son to die, no less 
than love on the part of the Son to come — and the one 
was no more purchased than the other. The gift of the 
Saviour was just the expression, or the exponent of that 
love ; and the magnitude of the gift was the measure of 
the original love of God. As this idea is the essential 
thought in my text, and as the view which is taken of 
it will control all our views of the plan of salvation, I 
may be permitted to ask your attention to a remark or 
two to illustrate it. 

(1.) We do not suppose that any change has been 
wrought in the character of God by the plan of salvation, 
or by the work of the atonement. We do not believe 
that any change could be produced in his character ; we 
do not believe that it is desirable that there should be. 
We suppose that God was just as worthy of the love 
and confidence of his creatures before the atonement was 



2b PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

made as he is now, or ever will be ; and that every attri- 
bute of his character was just as lovely then as it is now. 
He is no more merciful now than he was from all eter- 
nity ; and he was no more stern in his character then 
than he is now, and always will be. The incorrigible and 
the finally impenitent sinner has no more reason to hope 
for exemption from deserved wrath now than he had be- 
fore Christ came ; and the angels in heaven gather around 
him with no more real confidence and love than they did 
before. The doctrine of the unchangeableness of God is 
the foundation of all our hopes ; nor could the affairs of 
the universe move on one moment securely, unless it 
was exactly true that with God there is " no variableness 
or shadow of turning." 

(2.) We suppose that God was originally so full of 
mercy, and so disposed to pardon sinners, that in order 
to do it he was willing to stoop to any sacrifice except 
that of truth and justice, and that therefore he sent his 
Son to die. The race was in fact lost and ruined. The 
world was full of sinners and full of sufferers. But we 
do not suppose that compassion towards them has been 
purchased, but that it was originally so great that he 
was willing to stoop to sacrifice in order to rescue and 
save them. — A father has a beloved son. He embarks 
on the ocean in the pursuits of commerce, and falls into 
the hands of an Algerine pirate. He is chained, and 
driven to the slave market, and sold, and conveyed over 
burning sands as a slave, and pines in hopeless bondage. 
The news of this reaches the ears of the father. What 
will be his emotions? Will the sufferings of that son 
make a change in his character ? If required, he would 
gather up his silver, and his gold, and his pearls, and 
leave his own home, and cross the ocean, and make his 
way over the burning sands, that he might find out and 
ransom the captive. But think you he would be a dif- 
ferent man now from what he was ? Has the captivity 
of that son made a change in him ? No. His sufferings 
have called out the original tenderness of his bosom, and 
have merely developed what he was. He so loved that 
child that the forsaking of his own home, and the perils 
of the ocean, and the journey over burning sands, were 
regarded as of no consequence if he could seek out and 



THE LOVE OF GOD IN THE GIFT OF A SAVIOUR. 29 

save him. These sacrifices and toils would be trifles, if 
he might again press his lost son to his bosom, and restore 
him to his desolate home. It is the love — the strong 
original love in his bosom, that prompts to the sacrifice, 
and that makes toil and peril welcome. So of God. 
Such was his original love for man, that he was willing 
to stoop to any sacrifice to save him ; and the gift of a 
Saviour was the mere expression of that love. 

(3.) But now to make this case more analogous to the 
plan of salvation, and to show more of the real difficulty, 
suppose the rescue of that child should in some way 
involve the consequence of doing injustice to others. Sup- 
pose it should take the father away from his own family, 
and expose them to a similar danger. Suppose it should 
involve the necessity of his acknowledging the right of 
the captor, or in some way make it necessary to expose 
his own character to a charge of injustice, or of false- 
hood — the difficulty in the case would be vastly increased, 
and the strong love of the father would be more strik- 
ingly shown if he should seek to remove this difficulty 
at the same time that he should save his enslaved son. 
This was the great work which rendered the plan of 
salvation so difficult and so glorious. It was not merely 
to save man, but it was at the same time to save the cha- 
racter, and name, and government of God. It was to show 
that he was "just," though he "justified the ungodly," 
and true, though the sinner should not die. It was to 
show his sense of the evil of sin, at the same time that 
he pardoned it ; and his truth, at the same time that the 
threatened penalty was remitted. This could be done 
only by allowing his son to be treated as if he were a sin- 
ner, in order to treat the really guilty as if they were 
righteous ; and so to identify the one with the other, that 
it might be adjudged that the law was as really satisfied 
as though they had themselves borne the penalty. It 
was not merely, therefore, the gift of a Saviour that was 
the expression of love, it was giving him so as to remove 
all the obstacles on his part to pardon, and making de- 
signed arrangements so as to preserve his own honor 
untarnished, and to secure the undiminished confidence 
of the universe. 

The essential idea which I have now aimed to exhibit, 
3 # 



80 PRACTICAL SERMONS, 

is, that the love and mercy of God in the plan of salva- 
tion lie back of the gift of a Saviour. They are not 
new attributes which have started up in the divine mind 
in consequence of the work of redemption. The mercy 
of God has not been purchased, and the character of God 
has not been changed. God is the same being now that 
he always was, and he will always remain unchangeably 
the same. No new attribute has been created ; none has 
been modified. The gift of a Saviour was just the ex- 
pression of the original and eternal love of God; and is 
just one of the overflowing manifestations of benevolence 
in the divine mind. It is not to make a change in God ; 
it is not to make an inexorable being mild ; it is not to 
make God more lovely than he was. It is true, that in 
consequence of this, he appears more lovely than he 
would otherwise have done — since every new develop- 
ment of his character lays the fomidation of an increased 
obligation to love him. But still the essential idea before 
us is, that he was originally and eternally disposed to 
show mercy ; and that the gift of a Saviour was just the 
expression of his love. u He so loved the world that he 
gave his only begotten Son." 

II. My second object was to show that the expression 
of his love was the highest that it possibly could be. 
This is evidently implied in the text : " God so loved the 
world, that he gave his only begotten Son." In illus- 
trating this point, I would observe — 

(1.) That such a gift is the highest conceivable gift 
among men, and the Saviour evidently means to say that 
the same thing is true of God. The Bible is as far as 
possible from representing God as without feeling or 
emotion. In the Bible he has the attributes of a tender 
and kind Father ; though in our philosophy and our theo- 
logy, in our hearts and affections, we make him a different 
being by far from what he is as revealed to be • in the 
Scriptures. Among men he is esteemed to be a cold 
and distant being ; regardless, to a great extent, of the 
wants and woes of the race ; seated in the far-distant 
heavens, and unconcerned in what occurs among men ; 
stern, and repulsive, and inapproachable, and severe. — 
But this is not the God of the Bible. There he is repre- 
sented as a Father. He is tender, compassionate, and 



THE LOVE OP GOD IN THE GIFT OF A SAVIOUR. 31 

kind. He loves his creatures though erring ; he seeks 
their welfare though fallen. He is interested for their 
good ; and he makes sacrifices — sacrifices in some proper 
sense — for their salvation. It is not trope and metaphor 
merely, when he speaks of himself as a Father, and as 
a compassionate God. He loves when he says he loves ; 
pities when he says he pities ; compassionates when he 
says he compassionates; and hates when he says he 
hates. He is the living and the compassionate God — not 
a cold creation of the imagination ; he is a Father — not 
the repulsive and distant being dreaded if not hated by 
the stoic. 

Now we have no higher conception of the love of a 
father than that he should give up his son to die. It is 
the last offering which he could make ; and beyond this 
there is nothing that we can expect. When a man bids 
his only son go into the tented field, and expose his life 
for his country, and with every prospect that he will die 
for its welfare, it is the highest expression of attachment 
for that country. Man has no possessions so valuable 
that he would not give them all to save the life of his 
son ; and when he yields up his son hi any cause, he has 
shown for it the highest love. It is impossible to con- 
ceive of a higher expression of love, if it could be done, 
than for a man on the bench, whose office required him 
to condemn the guilty to death, to be willing to substitute 
his own son on the gallows, and bid the murderer go free. 

When we speak of the love of God to Jesus Christ, 
and of his sacrifice and self-denial, it is not to be under- 
stood as a matter of form or metaphor. It is not the use 
of words without sense. The love of God to the Re- 
deemer is not the same kind of love which he has to the 
sun and stars ; to the rivers and hills ; to diamonds, and 
gold, and pearls ; to the lily and the rose which he has 
made ; or to the angelic hosts around his throne. The 
love of God for a holy man like Abraham, Isaiah, and 
Paul, is true and genuine attachment. The love of 
God to a holy and unfallen angel is real attachment. It 
is attachment to mind, and heart, and purity — and is not 
a name. But the love to Christ Jesus is peculiar. No 
other one sustained the relation to God which he did. 
No man had been so holy ; no angel sustained such a 



32 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

rank. He was the equal with the Father — yet incarnate ; 
and the love of God to Christ was the love of himself. 
The Redeemer was the brightness of his glory, and the 
express image of his person ; and he alone had joined 
the divinity with manhood, and expressed in his power, 
and wisdom, and holiness, the exact image of God. To 
give him was more than to give an angel — than all an- 
gels. It was to God what it would be for man to give 
up an only son. I know the difficulty of forming an 
adequate conception of this ; but having settled in my 
mind the full belief that the Bible is true, I do not be- 
lieve that the representation that there was real love in 
the gift of a Saviour is to be frittered away, or that the 
solemn declarations which abound there expressing the 
same idea as my text, are unmeaning. See a man sit 
on the bench of justice. See a prisoner arraigned on a 
charge of treason. See the solemn and just progress of 
the trial, until the man stands condemned, and the sen- 
tence of the law is about to fall on him. ' He is guilty/ 
says the judge, 6 no man can vindicate him ; no man can 
stay the regular operation of the law but myself. There 
stands my son — my only son — my hope, my stay. Officer, 
bind him. Lay him on the hurdle. Drag him to the 
place of death, and let his quartered body show to the 
nation that I hate the crime.' If this could be, who 
would doubt the greatness of the love ? When God says 
that this did exist in his case, who shall doubt that he 
loved the guilty and the lost ? 

(2.) But no man has ever manifested such love as this. 
If the opportunity has ever occurred, it has not been em- 
braced ; should it occur often, it would not be embraced. 
Man would shrink from it. In a few instances one man 
has been willing to sacrifice his life for a friend ; and not 
a few fathers and mothers have been willing to endanger 
their lives for the welfare of a son or daughter. But 
the instance has never yet occurred where a man was 
willing to give his own life, or the life of a child, for an 
enemy. No monarch on the throne has ever thought of 
giving the heir to his crown to die for a traitor, or for a 
rebellious province ; and amidst the multitudes of treasons 
which have occurred, it has never, probably, for one in- 
stant crossed the bosom of the offended sovereign to 



THE LOVE OF GOD IN THE GIFT OF A SAVIOUR. 33 

suppose that such a thing was possible ; and if it had 
occurred it would have been at once dismissed as not 
worth more than a passing thought. No magistrate has 
ever lived who would have been willing to sentence his 
own son to the gallows in place of the guilty wretch 
whom it was his duty to sentence to death. Not an in- 
stance has ever occurred in our own country — rich as it 
is in examples of benignity and kindness — in which a 
judge on the bench would have been willing to commute 
a punishment in this manner, if it had been in strict ac- 
cordance with equity and law ; and probably the records 
of all nations might be searched in vain for such an in- 
stance. We know that monarchs often feel, and that 
magistrates are not destitute of a tender heart, and that 
the man on the bench, who passes the severe sentence of 
the law, often does it in tears. The present king of France 
passes every night to a late hour in carefully examining 
the cases of those who are condemned to death, and in 
the silence of the night-watches ponders all the reasons 
why a pardon should be extended in any case, and often 
with a heavy heart signs the warrant for death; and 
Washington wept when his duty constrained him to ap- 
prove the sentence which doomed the accomplished 
Andre to the gallows ; but would these feelings in either 
instance, or in any instance, prompt to the surrender of a 
son — an only son — to the disgrace of the gibbet to save 
the spy or the traitor ? We are saying nothing in dispa- 
ragement of such men — for they are but men, and not 
God — when we say that their feelings of compassion 
have made no approach to such a sacrifice. Their deep 
emotions ; their tears ; their genuine sorrow ; their un- 
affected and noble benevolence — though an honor to our 
nature — have not approached the question whether such 
a sacrifice was possible or proper ; and we may add, it 
is not to be approached in this world. The nearest ap- 
proach of which I have ever heard to any thing like this 
feeling, was in the pathetic wish of David that he had 
himself been permitted to die in the place of a rebellious 
and ungrateful son. " 0, my son, Absalom ! my son, 
my son Absalom, would God I had died for thee, Ab- 
salom, my son, my son !" 2 Kings xviii. 33. Strong was 
that love which would lead a monarch and a father to 



34 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

be willing to die for such a son ; but how far removed 
still from the love which would lead to the sacrifice of a 
son for the guilty and the vile ! 

But " God commendeth his love toward us in that while 
we were yet sinners, in due time Christ died for us. 
Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved 
us, and gave his* Son to die for us." And such a death ! 
It stands by itself — a death of unequalled shame and 
woes. To be treated as a malefactor ; to be rejected and 
reviled ; to take the vacated place of a murderer ; to be 
subjected to lingering torture ; to be nailed to a cross — 
yes, nailed there to hang suspended till death should end 
the scene ; to endure through six long hours the pangs 
of crucifixion ; to endure reproach, and scorn, and con- 
tempt, and mockery, even on the cross — a place where, 
if any where, compassion should be shown, and where 
mockery should cease ; to be willing to endure all this 
voluntarily, this was the love of Christ. 

Every thing about the scene on Calvary fills me with 
amazement. I cannot understand it; it is all — all so 
unlike man. The gift of such a Saviour ; the patience 
of the sufferer ; the forbearance of God ; the fact that 
no thunder rolls, and no lightnings flash, to strike the 
crucifiers of his Son in death ; the fact that no angelic 
legion appears to seize and bear him away from the 
cross ; the fact that in that umiatural night no angel of 
death goes, as through the hosts of Sennacherib, to smite 
the murderers ; the fact that he lingers on, and lingers 
on — while the blood flows drop by drop, and stains the 
tree, and his body, and the ground, until life wears away 
— and he dies ! 6, it is wonderful. It stands alone ; and 
/ desire to stand alone — to close the eye on all other 
scenes of love and suffering, and look there till my heart 
is full, and I learn the height, and depth, and length, and 
breadth of the love of God. And there, too, I desire to 
tell my fellow-sinners that this is love — the love which 
God had for this world. It is not in the glorious sun that 
rides in the heavens, or the silent and solemn march of 
the stars at night, that I most see his love ; it is not in 
the running stream, and the landscape, and the songs in 
the groves; it is not in bird, beast, or dewy morn, or 
grateful evening mild; it is on Calvary, and in the sufferings 



THE LOVE OF GOD IN THE GIFT OF A SAVIOUR. 35 

there. There all is love — love unknown, unthought of 
elsewhere ; love that fills my eyes with tears, and my 
heart with overflowing gratitude, and my soul with 
peace. 

O for this love, let rocks and hills 

Their lasting silence break, 
And all harmonious human tongues 

The Saviour's praises speak. 

Yes, we will praise thee, dearest Lord, 

Our souls are all on flame ; 
Hosanna round the spacious earth, 

To thine adored name. 

Angels, assist our mighty joys, 

Strike all your harps of gold; 
But when you raise your highest notes, 

His love can ne'er be told. 

III. I proposed, in the third place, to consider the ex- 
tent of this love. It was for " the world." This is the 
idea which I desire to illustrate. 

(1.) It was for no part of the world considered as elect 
or chosen, in contradistinction from the non-elect or the 
reprobate. — I hold to the doctrine of election as a pre- 
cious doctrine of the Bible, and I have no other hope of 
the salvation of man than in that doctrine. I preach 
only because I believe God has a purpose of mercy ; and 
were it not that I believe that he will attend his message 
with his special grace, and in accordance with an eternal 
purpose, I should close this Bible and leave this pulpit in 
despair. But when I look at the work of the atonement, 
I look at a grand and glorious transaction that lies back, 
in the order of nature, of the purpose of election, and 
that in its original applicability is limited by no design of 
God. It is for the world — ' that whosoever believeth may 
not perish, but have everlasting life.' I see in it a work 
designed to show the benignity of God ; showing how 
God can be just, and yet the justifier of him that believ- 
eth ; how he can maintain his truth and yet forgive ; how 
he can welcome rebels to his favor and yet show that he 
hates their sins ; how he can admit them to the fellow- 
ship of angels, and yet not have them revolt at the ac- 
cession to their number, or lose their confidence in God, 
as if he were disposed to treat the evil and the good alike. 



36 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

And I love to contemplate it as it stands in its original 
glory — as it is an emanation of the divine goodness. I 
love to contemplate it, not in reference to the compara- 
tively narrow question of selfishness, < who shall or who 
shall not be saved' ; not narrowed down by a reference 
to a sordid commercial transaction of debt and purchase ; 
but with reference to the display of the divine perfec- 
tions — the exhibition of the mercy and the goodness of 
God. So I love to stand on the shore of the ocean, 
while surge after surge breaks at my feet ; and the blue 
expanse stretches out inimitably before me ; and ships 
ride proudly over the deep, and to contemplate it not 
with reference to the question whether it will safely bear 
a cargo of mine across it or not, but as a glorious exhi- 
bition of the power and greatness of God. So I love to 
stand on some eminence, and look down upon the land- 
scape, and to survey the spreading forests, and the river, 
and the fields, and the water-falls, and the villages, and 
the churches, not with the narrow inquiry, < what is all 
this worth ;' but what a view is there here of the good- 
ness of God, and the greatness of his compassion to the 
children of men ! So I stand at Niagara, and as God 
" pours" the water " from his hollow hand," and the 
soul is filled with emotions of unutterable sublimity, I 
will not ask what is all this worth for a mill-seat, but I 
will allow the scene to lift my soul up to God ; to teach 
me lessons of his power and greatness, and to show me 
the littleness of all that man can do. And so I will look 
on the glorious work of the atonement. I will look at 
it back of the question who is, or who is not, to be bene- 
fitted by it. I will ask what new manifestation there is 
in it of the character of God ; what is there to elevate 
the soul ; what is there to make me think more highly 
of the love, the truth, and the justice of my Maker ; 
what is there to expand the soul, and to elevate it above 
the sordid views and the groveling propensities of this 
world ? 

(2.) It was for " the world." It was, therefore, for no 
rank, or caste among men. It was not for any order of 
men, favored by blood, or rank, or office, or name. There 
has been a strong tendency every where to exalt one 
class of men above another as more honored by birth 



THE LOVE OF GOD IN THE GIFT OF A SAVIOUR. 37 

and by heaven than others. Hence in one land we have 
the hereditary aristocracy of caste, sanctioned by all the 
authority of religion, and enforced by all the power de- 
rived from the fact that it runs back to the most distant 
antiquity. In another we have the aristocracy of titled 
ranks, founded on the claims of some illustrious ances- 
tors, and the transmission of their title to their sons; and 
this elevates one class in feeling as well as in power 
above the humbler ranks of mortals. In other lands, 
where these distinctions are unknown, there is a constant 
tendency to create some permanent distinctions among 
the different orders of society, and where it cannot be 
done under the sanction of religion, or the splendid deeds 
of an honored ancestry, or by law, to create it by the 
pride of wealth and family ; by the distinction of color 
and complexion; by the difference of employment or 
profession ; or by a self-created notion of ascendancy in 
one class above another. 

Now, it requires ail the power of the truth that God 
c loved the world' — the whole world — to subdue and 
control this pride of rank ; that he did not die for nobles 
merely, or for princes, for the rich or the honored, but 
that he died for all ; that the beggar and the slave had a 
remembrance in his dying love as well as the monarch 
on his throne ; and jhat if men are saved, they must be 
saved as companions in redemption, as they have been 
in guilt and in exposure to death. They are on a level. 
It is not redemption that makes them so. They were so 
before ; and redemption only recognises that fact. The 
same blood flows through their veins. They are tainted by 
the same original corruption of sin. They are destined to 
endure the same pangs of sickness and of death, and they 
will moulder back side by side to dust. God loved the 
one rank as much as the other — the monarch on the 
throne as much as the beggar — and no more ; the man 
of wealth as much as the man of poverty — and no more ; 
the man who by his talents can transmit his name to 
future times, as much as he who dies and is at once for- 
gotten — and no more. 

(3.) Finally, it was for the world — the whole world. 
It was then limited in its design to no color or complex- 
ion. Here, too, there is a strong tendency in the mind 
4 



3S PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

of man to feel that color and complexion give some pre- 
eminence. Men on this found their right to bind, and 
chain, and task their fellows, and exact their toil with 
stripes. They kidnap them, and convey them, amidst 
many terrors, to distant lands. They expose them for 
sale, as if they belonged to the brute creation. They ex- 
amine their health, and their strength, and their sound- 
ness, as they do the animal that is exposed to sale. They 
buy them as they do the inferior creation. The}' disre- 
gard the ties of parentage and brotherhood; of blood 
and of affection, as if they were a trifle or a name. They 
"withhold the Bible, as if they had no immortal nature ; 
and they shut them out from the blessings of the ever- 
lasting gospel, as if death was the end of consciousness 
and the extinguisher of being. 

Now, it requires all the power of the gospel to break 
down and annihilate this feeling, and to make us realize 
that he with a different skin from ours is a brother — a 
brother in hope as well as in sin. We had one father. 
We have one nature. We have one God ; one Saviour. 
Beneath that less attractive external form — less attractive 
to us, but not to God : in that debased, and worn down, 
and crushed human frame — crushed by sorrow and by 
toil — there dwells an immortal spirit that might be pure 
like an angel ; a soul worth all which it cost — and it could 
cost no more — in redemption ; the germ of endless being ; 
the beginning of undying life. It will live on, and live 
on, when kingdoms shall be forgotten, and when all the 
proud monuments that have been reared by oppressed 
and purchased sinews shall have crumbled back to dust. 
For that oppressed and broken spirit Christ died, That 
down-trodden man God loved when he loved the world, 
and gave his only begot'eh Son to die. And I love to 
feel — and will feel ; — it makes me love the gospel more, 
and the Saviour more, that for the red man of the forest 
Christ died — whether he lingers pensively around his 
fathers' graves, or heaves a deep-drawn sigh as he looks 
on the stream where his fathers fished, or the ample 
plains, where, in the elasticity of savage life, he pursued 
the game of the forest ; or whether forced away by na- 
tional injustice, and by the violation of compacts, he 
turns his back sullenly on all those fair lands, and goes 



THE LOVE OP GOD IN THE GIFT OP A SAVIOUR. 39 

with solitary step and slow to the setting sun, broken- 
hearted, to lie down and die. And I love to feel, and 
will feel ; — it makes me love the gospel more, and the Sa- 
viour more — that for the black man of Africa he died — 
whether sank in debasement on his native shores — the 
victim of degrading superstition there ; or whether borne 
a captive across the ocean, and bound down by ignorance 
and toil in Christian lands. He is a man — an immortal 
man — a redeemed man — and not a chattel or a thing. 
Christ died not for chattels and for things ; he died for 
souls ; for man ; for immortal minds ; for those who may 
yet burst every shackle and every bond, and range the 
world of glory as immortal freemen there. 

In conclusion, I might remark, were there time, that 
the gospel should be preached to all men — to elect and 
non-elect ; to rich and poor ; to bond and free. No man 
has a right to designate ranks and classes, when he 
preaches the gospel. He who does not sincerely offer 
the gospel to all men ; who has mental reservations and 
drawbacks, violates his commission, and dishonors the 
gospel and its author. " Go ye into all the world and 
preach the gospel to every creature," is the command ; 
and this is to rule our preaching, and to govern our lives. 

The gospel is to be preached to all classes of men — to 
the debased and down-trodden, as well as the free and 
the elevated. He who makes an arrangement by which 
any class of men is excluded from the gospel, invades 
the prerogative of God ; prohibits what he commands, 
and exposes himself to the wrath of the Almighty. Any 
system of things on earth which prevents the fair pro- 
mulgation of the gospel, is a violation of the arrange- 
ments of heaven, and will, sooner or later, meet with the 
curse of the Most High. It is itself a curse — a wither- 
ing, a blighting curse ; and on it heaven will never smile. 

But chiefly I wished to say to one class of this audi- 
ence, that all along in life you have, by resisting the gos- 
pel, been resisting the expressions of tender love. You 
know what I mean. When you stand up against a ty- 
rant, you feel that you are right in resisting him. When 
you draw your sword against an aggressor, you feel that 
you are right. But how do you feel when you resist the 
kindness of a father, and slight all the expressions of his 



40 FKACTICAL SERMONS. 

love for you ? How do you feel when you have broken 
a mother's heart, and when all the expressions of her 
love could not keep you from the ways of sin, and she 
died of grief? then the scene, the fact is changed. 
There is guilt ; and there the heart feels. So you have 
resisted God. You have disregarded his love. Your life 
has been little else than a constant resisting of the ap- 
peals of his compassion. His love in redemption you 
have slighted, and his offers of mercy you have shunned. 
0, the cross, the cross of Christ ! 0, the bleeding victim 
there ! 0, the pangs and sorrows of that dark day when 
he died ! How it shows the love of God — his tenderness 
for man— his desire that he should be saved ! And 0, 
what a rock is the human heart that has no feeling, when 
God's incarnate Son — the beloved of heaven — hangs 
there and bleeds ; is forsaken ; is pale ; is exhausted ; is 
convulsed in agony — and dies ! 

Hearts of stone, relent, relent, 

Break, by Jesus' cross subdued ; 
See his body,, mangled — rent, 

Covered with a gore of blood ; 
Sinful soul, what hast thou done ! 
Murdered God's eternal Son ! 

Yes, our sins have done the deed, 
Drove the nails that fixed him there ; 

Crowned with thorns his sacred head, 
Pierced him with a soldier's spear ; 

Made his soul a sacrifice, 

For a sinful world he dies. 

Will you let him die in vain 1 

Still to death pursue your Lord ? 
Open tear his wounds again, 

Trample on his precious blood 1 
No ! With all my sins I'll part ; 
Saviour, take my broken heart. 



SERMON III. 



WHY WILL YE DIE.'' 



Ezek. xxxiii. 11. Say unto them, As I live, saith the Lord God, I have 
no pleasure in the death of the wicked ; but that the wicked turn from his 
way and live ; turn ye from your evil ways ; for why will ye die 1 

The ministers of the gospel are sent to endeavor to 
aronse their fellow-men to a sense of their danger, and 
to win them to God. We are to tell, in simple but solemn 
language, all that we know about God, and Christ, and 
heaven, and hell ; to rebuke, to warn, and to invite, by- 
all the means that God may put in our power in order to 
save them. We are to throw ourselves in the paths of 
sinners ; and to attempt to stay their goings as they travel 
down to death. If they will die, our duty is plain. It 
is to be found throwing obstacles in their way as they go 
to ruin ; addressing ourselves to their reason and their 
conscience ; reminding them of death and the judgment ; 
and appealing to them by all that is inviting in heaven, 
and fearful in future wo, not to go down to the place of 
despair, to be the everlasting enemies of God. We have 
no choice here. We must warn them as if they were to 
die ; we must speak to them as if they were in danger 
of eternal ruin. 

Wlio are they who are thus to be addressed ? They 
are the wicked : — the wicked, as the Bible uses that term 
— the impenitent, and the unbelieving, and the violators 
of the law of God, of every age, and character, and 
complexion. The Bible makes but two grand divisions 
among men — as there will be but two at the day of judg- 
ment — the righteous and the wicked ; they who serve 
God, and they who serve him not. In the one class are 
the redeemed, the renewed, the praying, the pure, the 
friends of Jesus ; in the other they who are unrenewed, 
unsanctifled, and unforgiven ; they who do not pray, and 
who do not love the Redeemer, and who have not a well- 
4* 41 



42 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

founded hope of heaven — be they profane, and sensual, 
and corrupt ; be they proud and haughty ; or be they 
amiable and externally moral ; or be they accomplished 
and winning in their manners. I say the externally moral, 
the accomplished, the winning in their manners. I say 
it, because the Bible classes them there. I know of no 
promise to them of salvation because they are such ; I 
see no statement that one man is to be saved by faith in 
Jesus Christ, and another by accomplishment, and free- 
dom from gross vices. A heart exceedingly wicked may 
reside beneath a most attractive outward mien. Fasci- 
nating manners are not faith in Jesus Christ; nor is 
amiableness the love of God. There are "but two classes 
among you to-day — the righteous and the wicked. There 
are but two paths that are trod by mortals — the narrow 
way, and the broad way. There are but two places to 
be occupied at the judgment — the right, and the left 
hand of the Judge. There are but two worlds which 
are to receive us all at last — heaven and hell. There are 
no Elysian fields which you may traverse for whom the 
Christian's heaven would be too holy and pure ; or where 
you might possess and exhibit your amiableness and ac- 
complishments apart from the grossly vile in the future 
world. There is a line which divides the human race, 
and which will divide it forever. On one side are the 
lovers of God, and on the other are the wicked ; and that 
portion of the latter class who are present here to-day I 
desire to address, and to say to you, "Why will ye 
die ?" 

Death means here eternal death. For why, or how 
can God address mortal men, and ask them why they 
should die and be laid in their graves ? They cannot help 
it. He has himself said, " Dust thou art, and unto dust 
shalt thou return." " It is appointed unto men once to 
die," — and " There is no escape in that war." To ask 
us < why we should die,' and be consigned to the grave, 
and moulder back to dust, as if we could avoid it, would 
be to tantalize and mock us— and God would not, could 
not do it. But to ask us why we will persevere and go 
down to hell, when we might be saved; why we would 
dwell with devouring fire, when we might dwell amid 
the glories of heaven, is a question worthy of a God, and 



WHY WILL YE DIE ? 43 

is fit to be deeply pondered by every traveller to eter- 
nity. 

I shall endeavor to enforce that question. I shall ad 
dress this part of my audience, with the earnest prayer 
that they may hear this question of their Maker to-day ; 
and with a regard to my account to my Maker, and to 
your good, I shall submit to you now a few propositions 
sustained by my text, and designed to set its meaning be- 
fore you. 

I. It is the unalterable purpose of God that the wicked 
shall turn or die. In confirmation of this proposition, I 
refer you to the text. There it is of necessity implied 
that it is the solemn purpose of God that the wicked shall 
turn or die. He would not expostulate with them in this 
solemn manner if there were no danger, and if no such 
purpose were formed. It is not the manner of our Maker 
to assume earnestness when it is uncalled for ; or to use 
words that are unmeaning ; or to make appeals that are 
designed needlessly to alarm men. He does not trifle 
with the creatures which he has made. He does not hold 
up imaginary objects of dread. When God places him- 
self in our path ; when he lifts up the voice of solemn 
warning and remonstrance • when he tells of danger, it 
is no imaginary scene. It is no work of the fancy. It 
is real. The highest proof of the reality and certainty 
of danger and guilt, is for God to speak of them as if 
they were so. 

Many persons profess to hold that all men will be 
saved. Many men feel that in some indefinable way 
sinners may yet escape future wrath. Many feel, and 
desire to feel, that there is no danger, and that all that is 
said of eternal death is the work of fancy and of fiction. 
It is not unnatural to dread to think on it — for it is fitted 
to produce alarm and pain ; and it is not unnatural to 
ivish that there were no danger, and no death, and no 
hell. But look at this subject, and see if your Maker's 
earnestness and his solemn warning furnish no proof that 
there is danger. You feel, or think, or hope that there is 
no danger of eternal death, and that alarm is needless. 
Tell me, then, what is the meaning of the solemn address 
in the text. Would God — the ever blessed and benevo- 
lent God, speak of death, when there was none, and of 



44 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

hell which had no existence ? Would he say, « Why rush 
into those flames V when there are no flames ? ( Why go 
into that pestilential region V when there is no pestilence ? 
' Why go on till you fall down that precipice V when 
there is no precipice ? < Why tread that region of death ?' 
when there is no death ? No. God does not thus speak 
to men. And when he asks them why they will die ; 
when he entreats them to turn lest they die, it is full proof 
that unless they repent they must die. There can be no 
stronger proof of this. And without any impropriety of 
imagination, or any improper use of Scripture language, 
God may be regarded to-day as present in this house, and 
as looking over this congregation, and into each heart- 
and onward to the world of death — and saying to each 
one, " Why will you die ?" He throws himself in the 
path of the wicked, and by this question assures them 
that unless they turn they must die. He speaks to the 
wicked and the thoughtless — to you the gay, and the in- 
sensible, and the unconverted, in your path to hell, and 
puts the solemn question to-day, " Why will ye die V 
Tell me, would he use this language if you were in no 
danger ? Would he use it if he knew that all men were 
to be saved ? 

The text does not stand alone. If any man doubt; 
that it is the unalterable purpose of God that the wickec 
shall turn or die, let him open at pleasure any part of the 
Bible. " Verily, verily," said the Redeemer, " except 
man be born again, he shall not see the kingdom of God. r 
" Except ye be converted, and become as little children 
ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." " He 
that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he tha 
believeth not shall be damned." " He that believeth no 
the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abidetl 
on him." " The wicked shall be turned into hell, anc 
all the nations that forget God." " It is a fearful thing tc 
fall into the hands of the living God." "These shall ge 
away into everlasting punishment." There is no ambiguity 
here. There is no wish to hide a painful doctrine. There 
is no concealment. If it be so that there is a world of 
death, and that the wicked go there, they do not go un 
apprized of it. They are told what to expect, and wha 
is before them. 



WHY WILL YE DIE ? 45 

The purpose of God on this point has been expressed 
in every variety of way in the Bible, and in the events 
of his Providence. In the Bible— by solemn assurance ; 
by warning ; by entreaty ; by remonstrance ; by appeals ; 
by threatening ; by the description of the dying and the 
dead who have gone down to hell. In his Providence — ■ 
by the cutting off of the wicked ; by his judgments on 
the old world, and on the cities of the plain, " Set forth 
as an example suffering the vengeance of eternal fire." 
In his Providence now. Every pain is designed to ad- 
monish us. Every hour of sickness ; every funeral pro- 
cession ; every open grave reminds us of it. The earth 
is full of the warnings and of the monuments of his dis- 
pleasure against sin, and of the assurances that unless 
the guilty turn it is his unalterable purpose that they 
shall die. There is no relaxing, no misgiving on the part 
of God. Six thousand years have made no change in 
his purpose ; and it is as true now as it was in the old 
world, and in the time of Ezekiel, that unless the wicked 
turn they shall die. 

If I had time, I think I could vindicate this doctrine ; 
at least I could show that the objections against it are 
unfounded. But I have no time to do it now, and it is 
not necessary. What I wish to show is, that it is the 
unchangeable purpose of God that the wicked must turn 
or perish. The passages of scripture to which I have refer- 
red demonstrate it. They would not, they could not stand 
in a revelation which meant to teach that there was no 
danger. Language has no terrors more explicit, and none 
more solemn than these. Here stand these passages — 
full of solemn truth, and solemn warning — from age to 
age, to meet the caviller and the despiser of this gene- 
ration on his way to hell— and then to meet the caviller 
and the despiser of the next generation on his way to 
hell — and thus to warn each successive generation that 
it is the unalterable law of God that the wicked shall turn 
or die. 

Human opinions and human feelings have no bearing 
on this doctrine. They do not, they cannot affect it. The 
Bible travels on from age to age bearing the same fear- 
ful doctrine, and is unchanged in its warnings and ap- 



46 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

peals. Some of each generation listen, are admonished, and 
saved ; — the rest pass on and die. Human opinion does 
not alter facts. Human opinion does not remove death- 
beds, and graves, and sorrows ; nor will it remove and 
annihilate the world of wo. Facts stand unaffected by 
the changes of human belief; and fearful events roll on 
just as though men expected them. Nine-tenths of all 
the dead expected not to die at the time when in fact 
they have died, and more than half now listen to no ad- 
monition that death will ever come. They who have 
died had an expectation that they would live many 
years. But death came. He was not stayed by their 
belief or unbelief. He came steadily on. Each day he 
took a stride towards them — and step by step he ad- 
vanced, so that they could not retreat or evade him till 
he was near enough to strike, and they fell. And so 
though the living will not hear, death comes to them. 
And so the doom of the sinner rolls on. Each day, each 
hour, each moment, it draws near. Whether he believes 
it or not makes no difference in the fact. It comes. It 
will not recede. In spite of all attempts to reason, or to 
forget it, the time comes ; and at the appointed time the 
sinner dies. 

Cavil and ridicule do not affect this. There is no power 
in a joke to put away convulsions, and fevers, and groans. 
The laugh and the song close no grave, and put back 
none of the sorrows of the second death. The dwellers 
in Pompeii could not put back the fires of the volcano by 
derision ; nor would the mockery of the inhabitants of 
Sodom have stayed the sheets of flame that came fromi 
heaven. The scoffing sinner dies, and is lost just like 
others ; the young man that has learned to cavil and de- 
ride religion, dies just like others. No cavil has yet 
changed a fact ; none has ever stayed the arrow of 
death. 

This is plain. But will not God make allowance foi 
insensibility on this subject ? Will he not pity, and spare_ 
and save him who has no feeling, and no desire to be 
saved ? I answer, No. It is not the fault of God that 
the sinner does not feel. It is not because he has reveal 
ed no truth fitted to make men feel. It- is not because 






WHY WILL YE DIE ? 47 

the truth is not plain enough. I ask you, is not the 
ground of your complaint — not that it is not plain enough 
— but that it is too plain ? Is not that the feeling which 
you have to-day ? Has not God revealed truth enough to 
affect the heart, and to make it feel ? You are insensible, 
you say, to your condition. How has this been pro- 
duced ? By God ? — / answer. By resisting his appeals ; 
slighting his warnings ; grieving his Spirit ; refusing to 
listen to his messengers. You have sought it, and loved 
it, and would allow nothing to rouse you from it. You 
have made up your mind on the subject — and now will 
you blame God ? You may close your eyes to the fright- 
ful precipice of which a friend warns you, but will you 
say that you might not have seen the danger ? God is 
not to blame when men are blind to their own interests. 
He has told you what you are — a lost sinner. He has 
told you what is before you — death. He has apprized 
you when it will come— soon. He has lifted the veil 
from the eternal world and shown to you his throne, and 
his judgment-bar, and the world of wo. And now, I 
ask, who is to blame if the sinner is unmoved and un- 
concerned ? If, with the proof of guilt which God has 
furnished ; and the solemn warning in the Bible before 
you ; and the exhibition of the death of Jesus for your 
sins, you are unmoved, will you blame God ? What 
other truths could you ask, or expect to impress the 
mind ? There are no other, no higher truths than these. 
Heaven has no other, than to offer its eternal bliss to 
mortals. Hell has no other, than to threaten its eternal 
woes. The grave has no other, than to assure you that 
you must all sleep and moulder there. God has no 
higher truth than to declare his conviction of the guilt 
and danger of man ; to proclaim his love by the gift of 
his Son to die ; to offer himself as the portion of the soul, 
and his heaven as our home ; and to invite as a Father, 
and to threaten as a God, to induce us to return to him- 
self. If the sinner is insensible, he has none to blame 
but himself ; if he dies, he dies with the assurance often 
made to him — made to him till he was weary of it — that 
it was the unalterable purpose of God that the wicked 
should turn or die. 



48 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

II. My second proposition is, that there is danger that 
the wicked will die the second death. In proof of this, 
hear these remarks. If there were no danger of it, God 
would not address you in the language of the text ; and 
in the similar language with which the Bible abounds. 
He does not assume earnestness where there is no danger; 
he does not warn men with increasing importunity, unless 
he sees the danger deepen. Need I pause to prove further 
that there is such danger ? Need I stop to show in what it 
lies ? A sinner never takes a step which is not on the crum- 
bling verge of a precipice, from which, if he falls, he falls 
to rise no more. A man who may die at any moment, and 
who is unprepared to die, is in danger of hell each step 
that he takes. A soul that is insensible and unmoved — 
which no appeal reaches, and no voice alarms, is in dan- 
ger of min. A man who lives for himself, and not for 
God, is in danger of death eternal, and may at any mo- 
ment be cut off from life and hope. There are obstacles 
which lie between each impenitent man and heaven, and 
there are strong probabilities that these obstacles will 
never be surmounted, and that the soul will be lost. I 
wish to show you some of these obstacles, and to repre- 
sent to you the probability that they will never be over- 
come, but that they will always stand in the way of your 
salvation. The insensibility of the sinner is one proof of the 
danger of losing the soul, and that danger lies in the diffi- 
culty of arousing the mind to think of its own salvation, 
and the unwillingness of the heart to feel its own guilt 
and danger. A man may be made to feel when he is in 
danger of bankruptcy, though he may shut his eyes long 
to the truth. A man may be made to feel that he is in 
danger of dying, when disease has seized upon him, and 
his frame is wasting away. The eyes may shed tears 
over a novel, or at an exhibition of a tragedy, or in scenes 
of real grief. The heart is susceptible to the appeals of 
friendship, and gratitude, and love, and feels deeply at 
the prospect of the loss of reputation or property. Scenes 
of imaginary grief draw forth tears, but there are no 
tears to shed at the cross of Christ. The danger of death 
sometimes alarms, but there is no feeling of danger at 
the prospect of losing the soul. There appeals are made 



WHY WILL YE DIE ? 49 

in vain. The eye weeps not, and the heart feels not. 
There are no tears to shed, and there is no power to 
create concern. The unconverted heart of man is a hard 
rock : — no persuasion, no entreaty, no command, no re- 
monstrance, no glowing description of heaven, no fear- 
ful denunciation of eternal wo, moves or affects it. Its 
insensibility, in the circumstances in which we are placed, 
is the most mysterious and wonderful fact in the universe, 
of which we have any knowledge, and all philosophy 
fails to account for it. 

Now, the danger of which I am speaking is this. It 
is, that this state of things will continue — and continue 
until it be too late. I argue it and urge it, because you 
mean it shall, and intend that nothing shall arouse you ; 
because it continues till death in such a majority of cases 
just like your own ; because you have succeeded in con- 
tinuing it so long, and have learned the unhappy art of 
warding off all appeals, and of resisting all approaches 
to the soul ; because you have already resisted, perhaps, 
as solemn appeals as can ever be made to you ; and be- 
cause you may have gone far over your little journey of 
life, and may be near its close. He who has successfully 
resisted the appeals of the gospel, and the providence, 
and the Spirit of God for twenty, thirty, or forty years, 
and whose mind is now unmoved, has the prospect of 
being able to resist them until life shall close, and of dying 
in the same insensibility in which he lives. What, my 
hearer, will ever rouse you ? Is there any new law to be 
promulgated from some fearful Sinai, clothed in black- 
ness and tempest ? Is there to be some new incarnation 
of God, to appeal to you by more fearful wonders than 
those of Calvary? Is there to be some new heaven re- 
vealed, more glorious, more rich, more inviting, more 
lovely, to win you ? Is there to be a hell disclosed of 
more awful horror, and of longer burnings? Oh, no, 
none of these things. You have all to rouse you which 
you can ever have. Death ; the grave ; the cross ; hea- 
ven ; hell : all — all appeal to you, and call upon you to 
turn and live. What, let me ask, is to rouse you ? Do 
you expect to be aroused when you reach a more favor- 
able time of life ? With many, many of you, the most 
favorable time is passed already, and you were unmoved. 
5 



50 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

Do you expect to be aroused by some alarming dispen- 
sation of Providence, and some more solemn call to re- 
pentance ? You, perhaps, who have seen a child die, and 
heard God speak from his bed and his grave to you in 
vain ; you who have been stretched on a bed of pain, and 
compelled to look into eternity, yet unmoved ; you who 
have walked through scenes of calamity where God was, 
and where you refused to hear his voice, do you expect 
that affliction will awaken you ? Do you wait that God 
should send his Spirit into your hearts, and arouse you ? 
You who have often grieved that Spirit, and who know 
that with your present desires you would resist and op- 
pose him again, do you look and long for those heavenly 
influences ? Do you wait for others to lead the way to 
God, and expect to go with them ? Tell me, how many 
of your friends have become Christians, and left you un- 
willing to follow them ? Do you wait for a miracle to 
convert you — for some supernatural influence to bear 
you to heaven against your own will ? Then / tell you, 
you wait in vain. For this you may wait till " seas shall 
waste, and skies in smoke decay." There are no such 
influences. The heart must yield, or there is no salva- 
tion. The hard heart must feel, and repent, and become 
willing that God should reign, or there is no salvation. 
There are no insensible and unwilling saints in heaven. 
All there rejoice in the privilege of salvation, and have 
wept, and sighed, and groaned over sin, and have prayed 
for pardon. The truth, my hearer, is, that you do not 
love religion ; and the danger is, that this state of things 
will remain till you die. 

I have spoken of insensibility as a source of danger. 
I might have told you of other dangers. Young man — 
your ambition is endangering your soul. Your love of 
gain is estranging you from God. Your pride is a source 
of danger to you. Your youthful passions ; your unholy 
companions ; your amusements ; your loose and unsettled 
principles ; your sceptical thoughts ; your intention to 
delay this subject; your love of self; your nearness to 
the grave ; your exposure to death — all endanger your 
salvation. The allurements of the world ; the arts of a 
cunning and subtle foe ; the deceitfulness of your own 
hearts ; the propensity to delay, all endanger your salva- 



WHY WILL YE DIE? 51 

tion. They meet you every where ; every day ; — in your 
hearts ; in the world ; in your feelings ; — and it is for 
reasons such as these that God addresses you in the lan- 
guage of the text, and asks you ivhy you will die ? He 
sees the danger ; he knows it ; he loves your soul ; and 
he points you to the perils of your way. Look at these 
facts. I ask if you are not in danger ? I ask if there is 
not a fearful probability that your souls will be lost ? I 
ask if there is not reason to fear that you will be unmoved 
by all the appeals of the gospel ; that you will hear un- 
concerned all the thunders of the law ; that you will 
tread on in the path of sin unconcerned ; — that, in one 
word, while you live you will live without God, and 
when you die you will die without God, and when 
you go to eternity you will make the awful plunge " in 
the dark" without God? You will remember that these 
difficulties are your own. God is not responsible for 
them. He has not made them. Your indifference to re- 
ligion ; your love of the world ; your love of ease ; your 
love of sin, are all your own. Your own heart cherishes 
them; and so dearly you love them that nothing will 
induce you to abandon them. 

III. My third general proposition is, that the kind of 
death referred to in the text is such as to make earnest- 
ness of remonstrance proper. If it were not, God would 
not use this strong language. If it were a trine, an 
affair of a moment, or a day ; if it were temporary pain 
or distress, he would not remonstrate in this manner. 
When does he remonstrate with us about exposing our- 
selves to sickness or temporal death ? But when God 
uses this language, he sees all that, can be seen in the sin- 
ner's doom. His omniscient eye is on the grave, and on 
hell ; and seeing all, he asks, why, why will ye die ? He 
sees what you do not, and cannot see ; and seeing all, he 
speaks as a Father and a Friend, and asks, why, why 
will ye die ? Could you see it as he sees it, or as even 
man on earth may be made to see it, you would cease to 
wonder at the earnestness of the question. 

What is the death referred to in the text ? What is 
death at all ? What is eternal death ? — for the one is the 
faint emblem and image — and, alas ! often the forerunner 
of the other. We know something — yet little— of death. 



52 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

We see to-day a lovely and vigorous youth, flushed with 
hope, and full of cheerfulness and joy — the pride of his 
friends, and the hope of the community. His eye is ra- 
diant with genius ; his cheek blooms with the rose of 
health ; his frame is manly and commanding ; his step 
is elastic and joyous : his heart is bounding with hope. 
He comes to lend to the social circle the enchantment of 
his conversation and his wit ; and he looks onward to 
health, and honor, and long life. There is not a crown 
so brilliant in the grasp of ambition that he does not as- 
pire to it ; there is not a field of honor which he does no; 
hope to tread. To-morrow that elastic foot-tread ceases 
to be heard in the cheerful circle. That voice is hushed. 
The fire has departed from that eye ; and the color from 
that cheek ; and that large heart has ceased to beat, and 
the gushing blood has ceased to flow ; and all that am- 
bition, and hope, and wit, and humor, and gaiety have 
fled ; — and there is left — what ? A mass of moulded clay 
— now like the marble — cold, but more perishable ; a 
moulded form, but with a peculiarity of feature, a chilli- 
ness, a fixedness, a solemnity, a repulsiveness, that we 
see, but cannot describe — and that nature nowhere else 
reveals but among the dead. Is this death ? — Who shall 
tell us what it is ; or what that spirit felt when it fled — 
driven by the grim king away from the clay tenement ? 
This is death — the death of the body — but it is but the 
image of death. The true death — the real death, is the 
death of the soul. It is when the soul is severed from 
its God, and from hope, and peace, and joy; when it 
lives — without life ; survives — only to suffer : — is cut off 
from its high destiny — and driven away from him who 
is the Resurrection and the Life. Religion is life ; and 
heaven is life ; and hell is existence without life — conti- 
nued being, where the soul is held in existence only to 
continue to die. This is death. To be seen, it must 
be seen beyond the grave — in hell. 

What is that death ? Why should we dread it ? Hear 
him speak who saw it all, and who knew it all. i: The 
Son of man shall send forth his angels, and shall gather 
out of his kingdom all things that offend, and them 
wmich do iniquity, and shall cast them into a furnace of 
fire ; there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.'"' There, 



WHY WILL YE LIE ? 53 

according to him, the sufferer shall lift up the eyes, " being 
in torment," and ask in vain for a single " drop of water" 
to cool the tongue ; there " the worm dieth not, and the 
fire shall. not be quenched"; there shall be "everlasting 
punishment" ; there shall be " outer darkness" ; there 
shall be the execution of the sentence, " Depart, accursed, 
into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his an- 
gels." I have used only the words of the meek, and mild, 
and benevolent Redeemer — the most tender, and kind, 
and merciful of all who have dwelt on the earth, and who 
used such expressions as these, " How can ye escape the 
damnation of hell?" as if they became no other lips but 
his. He never concealed this danger. He never spake 
or acted as if it did not exist. He sought to save men 
as if the danger were real. He was just as serious, and 
solemn, and tender, as if he felt that every man was in 
danger of it. And he told men when he lived, and he 
tells you now, just what the sinner has to expect. He 
felt that men were in danger, or he would never have 
left the heavens to save them. And was it any common 
or any imaginary danger that would lead him from hea- 
ven to the manger, to the cross, to the tomb ? 

I know not what eternal death is. I can tell you some 
things. It is far away from heaven- — those blissful plains 
where eternal joy dwells. It is far from hope — hope that 
here " comes to all." It is the abode of all the aban- 
doned, and profane, and vile — the collected guilt and 
wretchedness of this world. It is a place where no sanc- 
tuary like this opens its doors and invites to heaven ; 
where no Sabbath returns to bless the soul ; where no 
message of mercy comes to the suffering and the sad. It 
is a world unblessed like this with the work of redemp- 
tion. On no second Calvary there is a Redeemer offered 
for sin ; and from no tomb there doss he rise to life to 
bless the sufferers with the offer, and to furnish the pledge 
of heaven. No Spirit strives there to reclaim the lost ; 
and on no zephyr there is the message of mercy borne, 
whispering peace. No God meets the desponding there 
with promises and hopes ; and from no eye there is the 
tear of sorrow ever wiped away. There is no such friend 
as Jesus ; no voice of mercy ; no day-star of hope ; no 
father, mother, daughter, pastor, angel, to sympathize ; 
5* 



54 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

no one to breathe for the lost the prayer for pardon ; no 
great Intercessor to bear the cry for mercy up to the 
throne of God. It is death — lingering, long, intermina- 
ble death — the dying sorrow prolonged from age to age ; 
onward — onward toward eternity — ever lingering, never 
ending. 

It is eternal. So said he who is the faithful and true 
witness, and who cannot lie. They " go away into ever- 
lasting punishment." This settles the question ; and if 
you go there, you go with your eyes open. He deceives 
no one. He would undeceive all. I use scripture lan- 
guage. I have no power — no heart to attempt to por- 
tray these scenes. They are not topics for declamation. 
For of whom are these things spoken ? Of the dwellers 
in distant worlds ? Of those whom we have not seen ? 
Alas ! of many, many of the wicked in this house. How 
many now in despair may have occupied the seats which 
you now occupy — not suffered now to go and tell their 
brethren lest they also come into that place of torment ! 
Oh, they are spoken of our kindred and friends — of 
wives, and husbands, and parents, and school-compa- 
nions, and teachers, and pupils, who are out of Christ. 
They are spoken of those to whom we are bound by 
every tender tie, and to whom the heart is drawn by all 
the gushing sympathy of love ; but are they less in dan- 
ger on that account ? 0, is there no danger ? Suppose a 
voice from heaven should be heard in this house, and 
saying to the living here, " The day is coming in which 
all that are in their graves shall hear the voice of the 
Son of man, and shall come forth, they that have done 
evil to the resurrection of damnation" ; " the wicked 
shall be turned into hell" ; " except ye repent, ye shall 
all perish" ; is there a heart here that would not feel that 
there was danger ? Should a hand be seen writing on 
these walls the names of all those here who are in dan- 
ger of hell, how solemn would be this house ! With what 
anxiety would you trace the record made ! How anxious- 
ly would you look to see if your name was begun — was 
recorded — was fixed there ! How deep the anguish of 
the soul ! How deep, perhaps, the groans that would be 
heard in every part of this house ! 

IV. My fourth and concluding proposition is, that eter- 



WHY WILL YE DIE ? 55 

nal death is not necessary, and may be avoided. If it 
were necessary and inevitable, your Maker would not 
expostulate with you, and ask " Why will ye die} 99 By 
a solemn oath — the most solemn — the only one that the 
Creator can make — by himself — his own life — his exist- 
ence — he declares that he has no pleasure in your death. 

Nor does this solemn declaration stand alone. Open 
any page of the Bible, and you may find the same as- 
surance every where. In every way in which we can 
conceive or desire, he has given the solemn assurance to 
men that if they die, it will not be because his ear is deaf 
to the cry of penitence, or his eye not compassionate to 
the returning prodigal, or because there is no provision 
for their salvation. What mean your spared lives, if he 
would have pleasure in your death ? Why have you not 
been cut down long since in your sins ? What mean the 
sorrows of the Redeemer in Gethsemane and on Cal- 
vary, if God wished your death ? W T hy was a Saviour 
given to die ? What mean the invitations of that Re- 
deemer to all — to all to come and live ? Why do I hear 
his kind voice meeting the sighs of the broken-hearted 
and the contrite, and saying, " Come unto me, all ye 
that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest }" Why his invitation, wide as the world, " Whoso- 
ever will, let him take the water of life freely" ? Why 
your serious thoughts ; your tender feelings ; your con- 
victions of sin ; your desires of heaven — produced by the 
Holy Ghost — if God would have pleasure in your rum ? 
Why this message of mercy sent again to your souls, if 
God wished your death ? 

No, my hearers, I assure you that God wishes not 
your death. Had he desired it, instead of being to-day 
in this peaceful sanctuary, you would have been lifting 
up your eyes in the world of despair. He desires not 
your death. The Redeemer desires not your death. 
There is not an angel of light that desires your death. 
There is not one among the spirits of the just made per- 
fect in heaven — be it departed father, mother, sister, child, 
that desires your death. There is not a pious friend 
among the living that desires your death. There is not 
one holy being throughout the universe, from Him that 



56 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

sitteth on the throne to the humblest member of the 
Christian church, that does not desire your salvation. 

Then why will you die ? Why should you die ? Why 
neglect the subject till you perish forever ? I ask with 
earnestness and with affection, why, why will you die ? 
What reason can be given why you should perish, while 
others are saved ? Is it because God is unwilling ? That 
would be a reason if it were so, but look at his solemn 
oath in the text. Is it because the Lord Jesus did not 
die for you ? That would be a reason if it were so, but 
hear the solemn declaration of the scriptures : " He tasted 
death for every man" ? Hear his own words, that the 
" Son of man would be lifted up, that whosoever believeth 
on him might not perish, but have everlasting life." Is it 
because Christ is unwilling that you should be saved ? 
That would be a reason, but hear him say, " Come unto 
me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will 
give you rest." Is it because there is no room in hea- 
ven ; because it is limited, and is full ; because there are 
no harps there that your hand might strike ? That would 
be a reason, but hear the Redeemer say, " And yet there 
is room." Is it because you cannot come ; because there 
are mountains of difficulties which you cannot overcome ; 
because your sins are so great that they cannot be par- 
doned ? That would be a reason ; but hear the ever- 
blessed God, " Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall 
be as white as snow ; though they be red like crimson, 
they shall be white as wool." Is it because the plea> 
sures, and honours, and wealth of this world will be an 
equivalent for eternal sorrows ; because there will be gain 
in enjoying these though you perish at last ? That might 
have some show of reason, but what will you be profited 
" if you gain the whole world and lose your own soul" ? 

Then, why will you die ? Why grieve away the Spirit 
of God ? Why trample beneath your feet the blood of 
the Saviour ? Why go down to death ? Aged man, why 
exhaust the last drop of mercy as you totter over the 
tomb, and sigh out the remains of your earthly being in 
the prayer, '0 God ! depart from me, I desire not the 
knowledge of thy ways ?' Man of middle age, why 
tread on in the neglect of religion, in the path which 



WHY WILL YE DIE ? 57 

thousands have trod — the path that leads to death — de- 
voting yourself to this world, only to reap immortal wo ? 
Ye young ; ye vigorous ; ye full of hope, and hilarity, 
and ambition, why spend the spring-time of being amidst 
youthful pleasures in the neglect of G-od, and why should 
you die forever ? Ye gay, ye guilty, ye thoughtless, ye 
anxious, ye aged, and ye young, your Maker meets you 
now, and asks you, ' Why will ye die V 0, that this 
question might be written in letters of living light in 
every gay assembly where you forget God ; in the room 
where you sleep ; and over your path every day as you 
go down to death ! Why will ye die ? why will ye die ? 
why will ye die ? Why go away from the cross ? Why 
tarn your backs on heaven ? Why be miserable forever ? 
Why linger on to all eternity in that immortal pain which 
never ceases — in the horrors of that death which never 
dies? 



SERMON IV. 

THE DECEITFULNESS OF THE HEART. 
Jeremiah xvii. 9. The heart is deceitful above all things. 

That is deceitful which tends to mislead, or in which 
we cannot confide. A man who professes friendship for 
us when we are in perplexity, and who leads us into ad- 
ditional perplexity, deceives us. When a traveller has 
lost his way, and a stranger meets him and offers to 
conduct him, and leads him on a wrong course, or so 
that he falls among robbers, he deceives him. Professed 
friends are sometimes deceitful, and are beautifully com- 
pared by Job to a brook in the desert. " My brethren 
have dealt deceitfully as a brook, and as the stream of 
brooks they pass away. Which are turbid by means of 
the [melted] ice, in which the snow is hid [by being dis- 
solved]. In the time when they become warm they 
evaporate ; when the heat cometh they are dried up from 
their place. The channels of their way wind round 
about ; they go into nothing and are lost. The caravans 
of Tema look ; the travelling companies of Sheba expect 
to see them. They are ashamed that they relied on 
them ; they come even to the place, and are confounded." 
Job vi. 15 — 20. They are deceitful — because in Eastern 
climates, and in sandy deserts, such streams are dried up 
or are lost in the sand. In the winter, or in the rainy 
season, they are swollen. In summer, and in times of 
drought, they disappear. They sink away in the sand, 
or they wind along in the desert, until they grow smaller 
and smaller, and finally disappear. The weary traveller 
that had at some seasons of the year pitched his tent 
there, returns again, and expects again to find the gur- 
gling fountain, or the running stream, but is disappointed. 
Its waters are dried up, and the brook has deceived him. 
A bow is deceitful. " They turned back," says the 

58 



■ 



THE DECEITFULNESS OF THE HEART 59 

Psalmist, " and dealt unfaithfully like their fathers ; they 
were turned aside like a deceitful bow." Ps. lxxviii. 
57. " They return," says the Prophet when speaking of 
the false and unfaithful Jews, " they return, but not to the 
Most High ; they are like a deceitful bow." Hos. vii. 16. 
A bow is deceitful when the arms are of unequal length, 
elasticity, or strength, or when, from any cause, the arrow 
does not follow the aim of the marksman, and turns aside. 
He who flatters us, and who designs to take advantage 
of our vanity to ruin our virtue, or to obtain our property, 
is deceitful. The man who professes to be your friend, 
and who stabs your reputation in the dark ; who profess- 
ing friendship sets in motion a train of evil reports and 
inuendoes, and suspicions, whose source you cannot 
trace, and whose malignity you cannot meet any more 
than you can a " mist from the ocean," is deceitful. He 
cannot be trusted. how full is the world of deceit and 
imposition ! Thousands and millions are the dupes of 
imposition in various ways, and no inconsiderable part of 
the human family seem to live that they may practise 
fraud on their fellow-men. 

But the heart is deceitful above all these things. It 
is more deceitful than the man who professes friendship 
for us in perplexity, and who imposes on us ; than the 
false guide to the traveller ; than the brook, the bow, 
the flatterer, the slanderer. It is more likely to lead us 
astray than any one or all of them. To illustrate this 
truth will be the design of this discourse ; and my plan 
will be to mention a few things in which men are deceived 
by their own hearts. 

I. I observe in the first place, that men impose on them- 
selves respecting their own character ; or that the heart 
practises a deception in regard to its natural tendency 
and disposition. The human heart is a great deep : — a 
deep so turbid by sin and agitated by passion that we 
cannot look into it far ; a deep which no line yet has been 
long enough to fathom. I believe that the true represen- 
tation of the human heart is in the Bible, and that the 
hearts of all men are reflected there. The account in the 
history of the Bible of the depravity of man is not more 
humiliating than is the account in Tacitus and Sallust, 
in Hume and in Gibbon ; the account in the Sacred Poets 



60 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

is substantially the same as in Shakespeare and Byron; 
the account given by Paul is the same that you will find 
in the books of every traveller who has penetrated the 
dark regions of the heathen world. You admit the ac- 
counl to be true of the world at large, of other men; you 
take securities of others; you put padlocks and bolts on 
your stores; you guard your houses, as if you believed 
it were true. ' Others believe the same of you; and the 
Bible holds all to be substantially alike — all fallen and 
ruined. 

And yet it is evident that men do not by nature attri- 
bute to themselves the character which is given of the 
human heart in the Bible. The Christian does. He be- 
lieves that the account of the Bible is a fair representation 
of his own heart by nature, and of the heart of every other 
man. He has no more doubt of it than he has that the 
account there given of God is true. He has learned it by 
bitter experience ; by the revelations of the Spirit ; and it 
is to him a truth attested by many scenes of repentance, 
and by many tears. But the mass of men do not feel so. 
Perhaps you could scarcely offer a more signal affront to 
a man — do it as kindly as you can — than to go to him, 
and apply to him as an individual, the account of the 
human heart in the Bible. Who will bear to be told, 
though you may go with all the influence of the tender 
relations of friendship, and all the influence that you can 
take with you from any official relation, that his mind is 
« enmity against God ,"■ that " in his flesh there dwelleth 
no good thing ;" that he " is a hater of God ;" that he is 
a " lover of pleasure more than a lover of God ;" that he 
is "living without God and without hope;" that his 
"heart is deceitful above all things, and desperatelv 
wicked ?" You will hear it from the desk— for (1.) you 
believe that it is our official duty to make the statement ; 
and (2.) the statement is of necessity so general that no 
one feels himself particularly intended. But would you 
hear it from me, if I should come to you alone, and if I 
should make the statements with all the tenderness that I 
could assume ? With all the respect which you might 
have for me as a man or a minister, would you take it 
kindly, or would you allow it ? 

As this is a matter pertaining to personal consciousness, 



THE DECEITFULNESS OF THE HEART. 61 

I may make my appeal to each individual. Is this the 
estimate which you have placed on yourselves? Does 
your view of your own heart accord with that which is 
given of the heart in the Bible ? Or is not the following 
rather the estimate which you have formed of yourselves : 
That you are moral, and amiable, and true, and just. 
That your imperfections — for all have them — are rather 
of the head than of the heart, and that your general aim 
is right and pure. That the original and prevailing bent 
of your mind is to goodness rather than to sin; and that 
3^ou have greatly cultivated and improved this original 
tendency, and have added much to it that claims the con- 
fidence and love of your friends and of the world. That 
though you have been guilty of faults, yet they are minor 
faults, few in number, and far between, that they have 
been more than corrected and compensated by a subse- 
quent life of virtue ; that they were not owing to any 
natural tendency to evil, but to your time of life, to the 
strength of temptation, or to a temperament signally sus- 
ceptible and ardent. That you have a right to the con- 
fidence of the world at large — having wronged no man, 
defrauded no man, killed no man, corrupted no man, 
slandered no man, and that the integrity of your charac- 
ter is not to be called in question. That the charges in 
the Bible of utter and total depravity, if applied to you, 
are harsh and severe ; and that the plan of salvation, pro- 
ceeding on the supposition of the utter ruin and corrup- 
tion of man, is unnecessary for you — however needful it 
may be for others — and is to be regarded by you as 
medicine is by those in health. It is valuable for those 
who are diseased ; it is unnecessary for the well. If such 
be your belief, then I need not say there is a radical dif- 
ference between your views and those of the Bible about 
your natural character, and your need of a Saviour. 

Is it not possible that your heart has deceived you on 
this point ? Let me suggest a few things for your consi- 
deration. 

One is, that if the Bible be true, there is no such native 
excellence of character as you suppose you possess ; — for 
in the most solemn manner, the Bible declares the whole 
race to be guilty, and ruined, and lost ; — and the Bible 
has such evidences of its truth and its divine origin as 
6 



S| PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

should lead you to suppose it possible that its account of 
the human character is correct. 

Another consideration is, that multitudes of men who 
once had the same view of themselves which you have, 
have been convinced of their error, and have been led to 
accord with the account in the Bible. I allude to those 
who are now Christians. Once they were just as confi- 
dent of their native purity as you are. They trusted just 
as much in their uprightness and integrity. They were 
just as much opposed to the doctrine of natural de- 
pravity. They cultivated the virtues and the graces of 
life, jnst as much and as successfully as you do. Many 
of them were upright, and moral, and honorable in the 
sight of men. They moved in the circles of fashion and 
of honor ; they had the confidence of the world ; they 
were without a stain on their external character ; they 
thought, as you do, that their hearts were pure, and that 
the charges in the Bible were singularly harsh and un- 
kind. But they have changed their opinions. They 
have seen their hearts in a different light. They now 
admit that all that the Bible said of their hearts was true; 
and have yielded themselves to the overpowering evi- 
dence that they are by nature wholly prone to sin. Now, 
if they were deceived, you may be also. If they are now 
right in their views you are wrong. If their present es- 
timate of character be correct, there is no such native ten- 
dency to goodness as you suppose, and you are deceived. 
They are among your best friends, and they have not 
assumed this new position from any desire to impose on 
others ; but they have been constrained to it because they 
saw it was true. 

Another consideration is, that there is nothing easier 
than to deceive ourselves in this matter. You have cer- 
tain traits of character which are in themselves well 
enough, and which may be commendable, and you exalt 
them in the place of others which God requires. You 
have a disposition that is naturally amiable and inof- 
fensive. So has a lamb, and a dove. Is this the love of 
God ? Is that what the law requires ? You are honest 
and upright towards men. Is this the love of the Creator, 
and is this to be a substitute for repentance and faith? 
How inconclusive is the reasoning that is secretly going 



THE DECEITFULNESS OF THE HEART. 63 

on in your mind on this subject. < I have wronged no 
man, therefore, I am the friend of God. I am amiable, 
accomplished, true, therefore, my want of love to God 
may be excused. I am kind to others, therefore, I need 
not pray, and if I neither pray nor worship my Maker, 
nor love my Redeemer, I shall be saved.' Is it not pos- 
sible also to conceal offensive points of character from 
yourselves and from the world ? Many an individual is 
refined and courteous in a circle like that in which you 
move, who would be a profane man or a gambler, a 
drunkard or a freebooter, were these restraints thrown 
off. Nay, I can conceive that a man may appear very 
courteous, and refined, and virtuous here, and in an 
hour afterwards, with the dissolute and profane, may 
evince a totally different character. Much of the virtue 
of this world is the creation of circumstances, not the re- 
sult of principle — and is, therefore, no virtue at all. Many 
a man aims, to conceal not to eradicate the evil of his 
heart ; and his smooth exterior, his plausible address, his 
winning manners, are the result of that concealment. 
Years may pass before the hidden fire shall burn, and 
before the depravity of the soul shall manifest itself by 
some tremendous deed of open guilt. — Again : we are 
flattered. Our parents flatter us ; our friends do it ; we 
do it ourselves. We love it. Our beauty, our strength, 
our skill in music, our accomplishments, our learning are 
praised. Somebody will praise us ; and we lay the flat- 
tering unction to the soul, and believe it, and feed upon 
it, and love it. We substitute this in the place of virtue, 
and forget while we drink it in that the Bible has said 
that the carnal mind is enmity against God. And it mat- 
ters not whence it comes, or how valueless it may be in 
its source, or scarcely how bad may be the intention with 
which it is done. It is acceptable to us always ; it is ac- 
ceptable to us all. Praise, 

" what heart of man 
Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms ! 
Praise from the rivelled lips of toothless, bald 
Decrepitude, and in the looks of lean 
And craving poverty, and in the bow 
Respectful of the smutched artificer, 
Is oft too welcome, and may disturb 
The bias of the purpose. How much more, 



B 1 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

Poored forth by beauty splendid and polite 
In language soft as adoration breathes ! 
Mi ' snare your idol ! think him human still. 

v Task, B. II. 

Another thought Are you not deceived in your esti- 
mate of your own character in regard to the love of virtue. 
Lei me 'ask a few plain questions. You say you love 
truth. Why then resist the truth as designed to bear on 
your own heart and to show you what you are ? You 
are amiable. Why not then love the Lord Jesus Christ ? 
Has there been any one among men more amiable or 
lovely than he ? You love purity. Why not then love 
God ? Is there any one more pure than he ? You arc 
aiming to do right. Why then do you not pray in the 
closet, and in the family, as you know you ought to do ? 
You are not opposed, you say, to God and his religion. 
Why then do you not embrace his gospel, and avow your 
attachment to him in the face of the world ? Does the 
child that loves a father neglect his commands ? Does he 
flee from his presence when he calls him ? Does he min- 
gle with his enemies, and choose that his name should be 
with his revilers ? You have done no wrong. Will you 
tell me then why you are afraid to die ? Why are you 
afraid of God and of the judgment, seat ? What has in- 
nocence to fear in death, or in the world beyond ? What 
has a guiltless man to dread at the bar of a holy God ? 
You are deceived. The paleness, and the terror, and the 
alarm of a dying man always prove that there is guilt 
within, and that he has something to dread after death. 
Few men know themselves. In all communities there is 
many a man who regards himself as a paragon of humi- 
lity who is a model of pride ; many a one who supposes 
he has no hostility to the Saviour, who would have 
joined in the cry "crucify him;" and many a man who 
supposes that his character is pure and his heart upright, 
who in other circumstances would show that that heart 
is a fountain of corruption, and is filled with evil. 

II. Men deceive themselves in regard to their real at- 
tachments. The remarks which I have to make under this 
head and the others which follow, will partake of the na- 
ture of illustrations of the fact already adverted to, that 
men deceive themselves in regard to their character, and 



THE DECEITFULNESS OF THE HEART. 65 

may be much more brief than the remarks under the first 
head. Men deceive themselves in regard to their real at- 
tachments. They usually flatter themselves that they have 
no improper attachment to their friends, to their children, 
to the world, to fashion, to fame, to property, to their 
pursuits. They think they hold to the doctrines of reli- 
gion, and that they are not insensible to its claims. They 
are not infidels ; they are not at heart opposed to the gos- 
pel. Is this so ? Or are they allowing their hearts to im- 
pose on themselves ? 

You think you have no undue attachment to a child. 
When the great Giver of life takes this child back to him- 
self, are you willing to part with it ? Are there no feel- 
ings of murmuring when you see that lovely babe be- 
yond human help sinking in death ? Is the heart always 
calm and submissive when the son advancing to man- 
hood- — soon to be your pride and your stay, or the 
daughter blooming like the rose, is suddenly cut down 
like the flower of the field ? Is the eye serene ; and is 
there no murmur tremulous on the lip ; or no suppressed 
complaining in the heart ? Does the sufferer always then 
say " the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, 
blessed be the name of the Lord?" Not always thus. " I 
am thankful," said one mother, when she lost a lovely 
child — in her view then the most lovely of all her chil- 
dren — " I am thankful that God has done his worst" 
Another fell in death, and she murmured still. A third 
also died — and she felt that the Lord had more that he 
could do — and then, taught to acquiesce, and brought to 
love him, she cheerfully said, " the Lord gave, and the 
Lord hath taken away ; blessed be his holy name." 

You think you have no undue attachment to wealth. 
How do you feel when you are embarrassed and when 
others are prospered ? When wind, and tide, and fire, 
and tempest are against you, and when others grow rich ? 
When your property takes to itself wings and flees away, 
while others are enjoying the smiles of Heaven ? How 
do you feel when you are asked to aid the cause of hu- 
manity with a portion of your wealth ? How do you 
estimate that property when compared with the wants of 
the world ? There are the poor, and the ignorant, and 
the down-trodden whom you might relieve. There is a 
6* 



66 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

dying world in want of schools, and Bibles, and churches, 
and a preached gospel? There are millions of benighted 
men ; millions under oppression; millions in slavery; mil- 
lions who are the miserable victims of sensuality and 
vice— and a portion of your property might aid to set the 
captive free, and to open the prisons of them that are 
bound, and to knock off the chains of servitude, and to 
\ e suffering nations, and to proclaim salvation to the 
ends of the earth. Do you esteem any or all of these ob- 
jects as at all comparable in value with the wealth which 
you hold in your hands ? And if you do not, have you 
not affixed an inordinate estimate to that wealth, and 
formed an attachment for it which God cannot approve ? 

You think you have no undue attachment to the world, 
and that hi the influence which that world has over you, 
you are showing no disrespect to the commands of God. 
Let me ask you, is any pleasure abandoned because he 
commands it ? Is any place of amusement forsaken be- 
cause he wills it ? Do you listen to the voice of God 
when he warns you against the seductive influence of the 
theatre, the ball-room, and. the pursuit of gain, and of 
ambition ? Are they not pursued as if there were no God, 
and as if you were never to give account ? 

You suppose you have some attachment to Christians, 
and to the Christian religion. You would be shocked and 
offended to be called an atheist, an infidel, a scoffer. Yoit 
admit the Bible to be true, and mean to be found among 
the number of those who hold that its doctrines are from 
Heaven. Yet does the heart never deceive you in this ? 
Is not this the truth — for I make my appeal to your 
own consciousness? You admit the doctrines of the 
Bible to be true in general; you deny them in detail. 
The doctrine of total depravity as taught in the Bible, 
and as applicable to yourself— do you believe it ? The 
necessity of regeneration in order to be saved — do you 
believe it ? The fact that you can be saved only by 
the merits of the Lord Jesus, and not by morals, and 
by amiableness, and an upright life— do you believe it ? 
The doctrine of the eternal punishment of the wicked- 
do you believe it ? Step by step, and point by point, 
we might go over the doctrines of the Bible, and as 
we go along, the heart, if honest, would answer, < No, 



THE DECEITFULNESS OF THE HEART. 67 

I believe none of these things. I am not as guilty and 
corrupt as the Bible says I am; I am not in danger of 
eternal sorrow ; I do not deserve the unending wrath of 
God f — and the heart has deceived you. 

You think you have no particular opposition to the 
duties of religion. But is not this the truth ? You admit 
the obligation in general ; you deny it in detail. Let me 
ask you, Do you pray ? Do you conscientiously read the 
Bible ? Do you repent of your past sins ? Do you believe 
in the Lord Jesus Christ ? Do you profess his name be- 
fore men ? Do you celebrate his death ? Do you take up 
the cross ? Do you cultivate meekness, and spirituality, 
and heavenly-mindedness ? Do you live for heaven, and 
for eternity, and for God ? Step by step, and point by 
point, we might, go over the catalogue of Christian duties, 
and as we go along the conscience would answer, ' No ; 
I do none of these things. Not one of the duties of the 
Christian religion do I perform as I know the Bible re- 
quires. Not one am I willing now to do.' The heart has 
deceived you in this. Am I saying more than your own 
consciences will bear witness to when I say that there is 
no argument, and no eloquence that could induce you 
this night to kneel down before God and pray ? 

III. In the third place, the heart is deceitful in regard 
to its power of resisting temptation. In the halcyon days 
of youth and inexperience, we think that Ave are proof 
against all the forms of allurement, and we listen with 
no pleasureable emotions to those who would warn us of 
danger. Experience and aged wisdom find it not easy to 
get and retain the ear of the young while they portray 
the dangers of the youthful course, and warn against the 
alluring customs of the world. And the reason is plain. 
Those whom we would admonish have had no expe- 
rience ; and they suspect no danger. They confide in 
their own powers ; they see before them a smooth ocean 
on which they expect to glide without danger. A gallant 
ship with her sails all set leaves the port. She is new ; 
and her virgin sails have not before been fanned by the 
breeze. The gale springs up, and gently swells all her 
canvass. Before her is the vast ocean — spread out as if to 
invite her. On her deck stands the young mariner — 
fresh from his home ; buoyant with hope 5 his glad eye 



68 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

Looking out on the new scene as the ship dances from 
wave to wave ; and his heart beats with joy. How chill- 
in- now; how cold; how incongruous, is it for the 
weather-beaten seaman— the man of many voyages, to 
come and tell of rocks, and quicksands, and whirlpools, 
and furious tempests. How incongruous to suggest that 
the seams may open, or the canvass be stripped to ribbons, 
or that some unseen current may drift that beautiful ves- 
sel into unknown seas, where she may lie becalmed, 

" Day after day, day after day, 
With neither breath nor motion ; 
As idle as a painted ship, 
Upon a painted ocean." 

So we start on the voyage of life. We flatter ourselves 
that we are able to meet temptation. We confide in the 
strength of our principles. We trust to the sincerity of 
our own hearts. Guileless ourselves — I do not mean guilt- 
less in the sense that we have no propensities to evil, 
but guileless in the sense of sincere and confiding — we 
suspect no fraud in others. Suspicion is not the charac- 
teristic of youth. It is the unhappy work of experience ; 
the influence that comes into our hearts, notwithstanding 
all our efforts to resist it, from long acquaintance with the 
insincerity of mankind. The world flatters us, and a 
thousand temptations adapted with consummate skill to 
the young, allure us. Professed friends meet us on the 
way and assure us that there is no danger. The gay, the 
fashionable, the rich, the winning, the beautiful, the ac- 
complished, invite us to tread with them the path of plea- 
sure, and to doubt the suggestions of experience and of 
age. We feel confident of our own safety. We suppose 
we may tread securely a little further. We see no danger 
near. We take another step still, and yet another, think- 
ing that we are safe yet. We have tried our virtuous 
principles, and thus far they bear the trial. We could re 
treat if we would ; we mean to retreat the moment that 
danger comes near. But who knows the power of 
temptation ? Who knows when dangers shall rush upon 
us so that we cannot escape ? There is a dividing line 
between safety and danger. Above thundering Niagara 
the river spreads out into a broad and tranquil basin. 



THE DECEITFULNESS OF THE HEART. 69 

All is calm, and the current flows gently on, and there 
even a light skiff may be guided in safety. You may 
glide nearer and nearer to the rapids, admiring the beauty 
of the shore, and looking on the ascending spray of the 
cataract, and listening to the roar of the distant waters, 
and be happy in the consciousness that you are safe. 
You may go a little further, and may have power still to 
ply the oar to reach the bank. But there is a point be- 
yond which human power is vain, and where the mighty 
waters shall seize the quivering bark, and bear it on to 
swift destruction. So perishes many a young man by the 
power of temptation. You may drink a social glass, you 
think, with a friend and be safe. One more glass, and 
you may be safe still, and another may be taken, you 
think, without danger. You may go to a theatre once, 
you suppose, and be safe. You may be pleased, and think 
you may go again, and be safe still. You are fascinated 
with the scenery, the action, the sentiment — and you go 
again. The acting, the sentiment, is not such as you saw 
and heard at the fire-side of your childhood ; not such as 
a mother would love ; not quite such as you would wish 
a sister to see. It is indelicate, as you would once have 
thought indelicate ; and profane, as you now think pro- 
fane. There are men and women there whom you would 
not like to see at your father's fire-side, and whom you 
would not allow to associate with a sister. You will be 
sensible of less and less horror at the indelicacy and pro- 
faneness there. There is a point where no young man 
is safe ; and where no unconverted heart is secure from 
the power of temptation, I need not describe the result. 
One allurement does not stand alone. None have been 
injured by staying away from such scenes. But 0, how 
many hearts have been broken as the result of a visit to 
such a place of allurement ! 

So you may go to a gambling room, you suppose, and 
be safe. Of playing yourself you have no intention. Of 
the place, the business you may have a deep abhorrence. 
But your friend plays and wins; and plays and wins 
again. With the same feelings you may go again. You 
feel still safe. You have no desire, no intention to play. 
But for pastime you venture a trifle — and win — and you 
win again and again, and begin to play deep — and you 



70 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

begin to lose— and are in debt— and wish to recover all — 
and are now seized by fiends in human shape who de- 
signed to devote yon to poverty, to despair, to cursing, 
and to hell.— When Elisha the prophet met Hazael bear- 
ing a present to him from Ben-hadad of Syria, the man 
of God fixed his eyes upon the messenger, and wept. 
Why dost thou weep? said Hazael. Because, said the 
prophet, I know the evil that thou will do unto the chil- 
dren of Israel. Their strong holds wilt thou set on fire, 
and their young men wilt thou slay with the sword. 
But what, said Hazael, is thy servant a dog that he should 
do this thing? 2 Kings, viii. 13. Scarce had he turned 
from the prophet before he murdered the King his mas- 
ter, and ascended the throne, and was all that the prophet 
said he would be. 

And who can tell what he would be if subjected to 
temptation? Look upon the wretched and abandoned 
profligate. See the ruined gambler, the counterfeiter, the 
drunkard, the murderer. Once they were what you are, 
confident in the strength of their virtue, with hearts 
bounding with hope, and with eyes bright with the visions 
of future honor and bliss. Far from the scenes of riot and 
dissipation ; far from the gambling room, the theatre, the 
house of her " whose steps take hold on hell," is the path 
of safety. And if I address any who are now sailing 
along on the stream of pleasure, thinking that no danger 
is near, I conjure you while manly strength remains, to 
ply the oar and to reach the bank. As you value health, 
property, reputation, usefulness, heaven; as you value 
the happiness of father, mother, sister, wife, or child ; as 
you regard the tears which a broken-hearted mother may 
shed over your grave, or the sorrows of a father whole 
heart may burst with swelling grief; as you would not 
bring down their gray hairs with sorrow to the grave or 
your own soul to death, I conjure you never to approach 
again the place of temptation. Be sufficiently independ- 
ent to act the man. Let conscience, and reason, and the 
law of God direct your steps ; and with virtue, reputation, 
happiness, heaven in the eye, dare to say to temptation 
and the tempter, < Henceforward I heed not your voice 
I will be a man. I walk no more in the ways of sin. 1 



THE DECEITFULNESS OF THE HEART. 71 

tread no farther the path where many have fallen to rise 
no more.* 

IV. Once more. The heart deceives itself in its pro- 
mises of reformation and amendment. I cannot dwell on 
this. Permit me to ask of you, how many resolutions you 
have formed to repent and be a Christian — all of which 
have failed. How many times have you promised 
yourself, your friends, and God, that you would forsake 
the ways of sin and live for heaven — all of which 
have failed. How often have you fixed the time when 
you would do this ? And yet that time has come and 
gone unimproved. At one time you resolved to repent 
and be a Christian when you had enjoyed a little longer 
the ways of sin. God granted you the desires of your 
heart, but the time has not come when you were willing 
to be his. At another time you resolved to repent 
should you be laid on a sick bed. You were sick, but 
you then found — what you will always find — that a sick 
bed is no good place to prepare to die. Then you re- 
solved, and in solemn covenant promised God, that if you 
should recover you would devote your life to him. You 
rose from your bed, and you forgot him. At one time 
you resolved to be a Christian when you should be set- 
tled in life ; then when you had more leisure; then when 
the cares of life should cease. At twenty, at thirty, at 
forty, at fifty years of age you may have resolved to turn 
to your Maker should you reach those periods — but on 
some of you the snows of winter have fallen, and yet a 
deceitful and a deceived heart is pointing you to some fu- 
ture period still. It deceived you in childhood; it deceived 
you in youth ; it deceived you in manhood ; it deceives 
you in old age. It has always deceived you as often as 
you have trusted it in all circumstances of life — and yet 
you trust it still. It has deceived you often er than you 
have been deceived by any and all other things — oftener 
than we are deceived by the false friend ; oftener than the 
traveller is deceived by his faithless guide ; oftener than 
the caravan is deceived by the vanished brook ; oftener 
than the bow deceives the hunter ; oftener than you have 
been deceived by any and v all other men. There is no 
man whom you have Yiot trusted more safely than your 
own heart ; no object in nature that has been as faithless 



7 1 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

M ( ] mt : _and I appeal to you if it is not deceitful above 
all things. 

In conclusion, I make three remarks: 

(1.) There is danger of losing the soul. The heart has 
deceived von in all the journey of life thus far; it has de- 
ceived von on all the points pertaining to salvation; it is 
still deceiving you. It has deceived you about your own 
character; about your real objects of attachment; about 
your power to resist temptation; about your resolutions 
for eternity. It has deceived you whenever and wherever 
yon have trusted it on these points, and it is now deluding 
yon with vain promises and expectations about the future. 
What shall hinder it from playing this same game till 
death shall close the scene, and you shall go to a world 
where delusions are unknown ? 

(2.) The heart of man is wicked. You have a heart 
which you yourself cannot trust. It has always deceived 
you. You have a heart which your fellow-men will not 
trust. They secure themselves by notes, and bonds, and 
mortgages, and oaths, and locks, and bolts ; — and they 
will not trust you without them. You have a heart 
which God regards as deceitful and depraved, and in 
which he puts no confidence, and which he has declared 
to be " desperately wicked." But who does confide in 
the heart of man? The tempter, the seducer, the Devil. 
The tempter knows that men may be led astray. The 
seducer knows that allurements may be presented so 
strong as to undermine our virtue, and lead us to ruin. 
And the great adversary of God, practised in wiles, and 
understanding fully the human heart, knows that that 
heart may be led into sin. And I ask whether that 
heart in which neither God nor man ; in which neither 
we nor our friends can put confidence, is a heart that is 
good and pure ? Is it such a heart as is fitted for heaven ? 
I answer no — and you respond to my own deep convic- 
tion when I say it must be renewed. 

(3.) Finally, I would warn you affectionately of dan- 
ger. I would conjure you to wake from these delusions 
to the reality of your condition. I would beseech you to 
look at truth, and be no longer under the control of a de- 
ceived and a deceitful heart. Life is too short to be play- 
nig such a game. There are too great interests at stake 



THE DECEITFULNESS OF THE HEART. 73 

to be thus the prey of delusions. Death and the grave 
cannot be made a foot-ball with which to amuse ourselves ; 
nor are heaven and hell mere creations of the fancy. Of 
all places, the earth is the least proper to be made the 
scene of deceptions. In the world of despair — if delusion, 
were possible — it would mitigate pain, and would endan- 
ger nothing. Nothing there can be worse, even in ima- 
gination, than the reality. But here every thing is at 
stake. You play and sport on the verge of a precipice 
from which if you fall you rise no more. Death is real ; 
and the grave is real; and hell is real; and the judg- 
ment is real. Not one of them is the work of fancy ; not 
one can be changed by the imagination. It will be no 
fiction when you come to die ; it will be no delusive pa- 
geant when you shall stand at the judgment seat ; it will 
be no day-dream when you shall hear the Judge solemnly 
say, " Depart accursed into everlasting fire." You pass 
on through scenes of affecting reality to another world. 
go not to awake first to the reality of the scene when 
these eyes shall have closed on all the vain pageantry ofi 
this world, and when you will have awaked from your 
delusion only to say " the harvest is passed, the summer 
is ended, and I am not saved." 



SERMON V. 

INDECISION IN RELIGION. 

] Kings xviii. 21. And Elijah came unto all the people and said, How 
long hall ye between two opinions 1 If the Lord be God follow him : 
But if Baal, then follow him. 

When these words were uttered, the ten tribes had re- 
volted, and had established a kingdom by themselves. 
The throne was occupied by Ahab, a prince distinguish- 
ed for wickedness and impiety. The worship of Baal 
had become the common religion of the kingdom of Israel, 
and there were comparatively few worshippers of the 
true God. Elijah assembled the prophets of Baal at 
Mount Carmel for the purpose of testing, by a public 
miracle, the question whether Jehovah or Baal were the 
proper object of adoration. In regard to the state of 
things existing at that time in Israel, we may remark — 

(1.) That a large portion of the nation was decidedly 
inclined to the worship of Baal. That worship was 
patronized and countenanced by the king and queen ; 
probably by most of the royal family, and, as a matter 
of course almost, by the mass of the people. So exten- 
sively did that worship prevail, that it was easy to as- 
semble no less than four hundred and fifty prophets of 
Baal on this occasion, to make a public trial of the ques- 
tion whether Jehovah or Baal were the true God. 

(2.) There were some who were as decidedly the 
friends of Jehovah. They were indeed few in number. 
Elijah thought himself alone ; and was greatly disheart- 
ened at the thought that he was the only one left who 
acknowledged the true God. Yet God said to him that 
he had reserved to himself seven thousand men who had 
not bowed the knee to the image of Baal, (1 Kings xix. 
18; Rom. xi. 4); thus proving, that even in the most 
discouraging circumstances, and in the widest prevalence 

74 



INDECISION IN RELIGION. 75 

of irreligion, there may be more real piety than the de- 
sponding hearts of the few friends of God may suppose. 
(3.) There was another, and evidently a large class, 
that was undecided. This was the class which Elijah 
particularly addressed in the text. They were hesitating 
and doubting ; they were undetermined whether to ac- 
knowledge Jehovah as the true God, or whether to bow 
down before the image of Baal. What was the ground 
of their hesitancy we are not informed, but it is not im- 
proper to suppose, that on the one hand they were in- 
clined to the worship of Baal because it was the popular 
religion ; because it was patronized by the sovereign ; 
because the way to office might have depended on con- 
formity to it ; and because it imposed few restraints, and 
permitted great license in the indulgence of corrupt pas- 
sions ; — and, on the other hand, there was the remem- 
brance of what Jehovah had done for their fathers ; 
there was the conviction of conscience that his religion 
was pure and true ; and there were his solemn commands 
to worship him alone, and his well-known denunciations 
against idolatry. 

This class particularly Elijah addressed. He called on 
them to come to a decision. He demanded that they 
should make up their minds, and come to some settled 
determination as to the course which they would pursue. 
He urged that if Jehovah was the true God, it was but 
reasonable that they should devote themselves with un- 
divided affection to him. If Baal, it was as reasonable 
that the worship that was due to him should not be with- 
neld, and that they should not approach his altars with 
divided hearts and with wavering minds. Jehovah or 
Baal, whichever was the true God, would be better 
pleased with settled views and determined purposes, than 
with irresolution and indecision, and with a system of 
worship that vibrated between one and the other. 

The doctrine which is, therefore, taught in this pas- 
sage, is the unreasonableness of indecision on the subject 
of religion. In discoursing on it, my object will be, 

I. To classify those who are thus undecided ; and 

II. To urge some reasons for an immediate decision. 
1. Those who are thus undecided may be regarded as 

comprising the following classes. 



76 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

(1.) Those who are undecided about the truth or re- 
ality o( religion at all, or of any system of religion. 
They embrace no system ; they make no pretensions to 
any religion. They are lookers-on in the world, and ob- 
servers of the various forms and systems of worship, 
professing liberality to all, and manifesting a preference 
tor none. They are undetermined whether Christianity 
is preferable to infidelity ; whether Protestantism is pre- 
ferable to the Papacy; whether deism is preferable to 
atheism ; and whether any form of paganism is not as 
safe as the purest form of Christianity. They are not 
decided whether the system which proclaims that all men 
will be saved is not as likely to be true as that which 
proclaims that " the wicked shall be turned into hell"; 
nor are they determined in their own minds whether it 
is not as well to depend on their own morality as to de- 
pend on the merits of the Lord Jesus Christ. They con- 
form to any mode of worship only because it is the pre- 
vailing form, and for the same reason that they would 
have been Mussulmen at Mecca or Constantinople ; wor- 
shippers of Confucius in China ; followers of Zoroaster 
in Persia ; or atheists in Paris, amidst the scenes of the 
French revolution. 

(2.) A second class is composed af those who hesitate 
between Christianity and infidelity. On the one hand, 
there are all the happy effects which Christianity pro- 
duces ; and all the arguments from miracle and prophecy 
in its favor ; and all the influences of education ; all the 
convictions of conscience, and all the offers which it 
makes of an eternal heaven ;— and on the other, there is 
all the force of the difficulties which are acknowledged 
to exist in the Bible ; all the reluctance to embrace its 
great and incomprehensible mysteries; all the influence 
of pride of heart, and the love of fancied independence ; 
all the power of corrupting passion, and the desire of 
indulgence in sin, prompting the individual to cast off 
the restraints of religion ; all the love of the world ; all 
the force of the fact that multitudes of the great, the rich, 
the scientific, are understood to have cast off Christianity, 
or to have doubts about its truth. And multitudes, there- 
fore, are in a state of avowed or secret doubt, and are 
hesitating whether Christianity be true or false, and whe- 



INDECISION IN RELIGION. *?7 

ther they shalJ embrace that system, or some form of the 
almost infinite number of forms in which infidelity mani- 
fests itself in this land. 

(3.) There are those, as a third class, who are awaken- 
ed to see their guilt, and who are hesitating about giving 
up their hearts to God. They see that they are sinners. 
They know that they are exposed to the wrath of God. 
They have no doubt of the necessity and the importance 
of religion. They have no doubt of the truth of Chris- 
tianity. They have long thought seriously on the subject ; 
have often prayed and wept ; and have often desired, as 
they supposed, to be Christians. Many of them have 
been trained in pious families, and in the Sabbath-school ; 
and they have often, and long, and deeply felt that it was 
necessary for them to be born again. But they hesitate. 
There is the love of some sin which they are not willing 
to abandon ; or there is the fear of shame, and the ap- 
prehension of derision ; or there is a secret unwillingness 
to be saved by the mere mercy of God, and the merit of 
the Saviour ; or there is a disposition to defer it to some 
future period ; or there is deep absorption in the business 
of the world ; or there are the allurements of youthful 
pleasures ; or there is the withering influence of some infi- 
del companion that ridicules the anxiety of the soul, and 
poisons the mind, and is the means of often grieving the 
Spirit of God. 

(4.) A fourth class is made up of those who are con- 
stantly forming resolutions to attend to the subject of 
religion, and to become decided Christians. Probably 
most of those who are here to-day, who have travelled 
any considerable distance on the journey of life, can re- 
collect many such resolutions seriously formed, and as 
often disregarded and broken. They can recall many 
periods of their youth, when their minds were ten- 
der, and when they were almost resolved to be Chris- 
tians ; many periods in sickness or in other afflictions, 
when they proposed, and solemnly promised to God that 
they would live to his glory ; many times under the 
preaching of the gospel, when they purposed to forsake 
their sins, and give themselves to God. But they are 
still undecided. Their vows, and purposes, and promises, 
are forgotten. Their love of the world is too strong for 



7> PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

iluni to forsake it yet, and they too much desire the in- 
dulgence of sin to abandon it, and live a life of piety. 
Notwithstanding all these resolutions, they are to-day as 
Undecided as they were years ago, and perhaps during 
many years they have come no nearer to a decision. 

(5.) A fifth class is made up of those who are unde- 
cided about making a profession of religion. That it is 
a duty they feel and admit ; and it is a duty which 
they often purpose to perform. Yet one opportunity 
passes by after another, and they are not prepared ; one 
communion occurs after another, and they still hesitate. 
There is the admission that it is a duty ; there is a set- 
tled purpose to do it at some period of life ; but there is, 
on the other hand, the fear of the world, or the love of 
some habit that could not be indulged in consistently 
with a profession of Christianity, or there is the plea 
that they are unworthy, or that they would not be able 
to adorn their profession ; or there is the ever-ready 
plea — a plea, alas ! answered with so much difficulty — 
that many professors do little honor to their high calling. 
Thus life wears away. One communion season passes 
after another ; and one year rolls on after another, and 
in the mean time there is no decision, nor is there any 
advance made towards a decision. Many an individual 
can look back over a dozen or a score of years, and 
find that during that period he has made no advance to- 
wards a decision ; and some even on whom the snows of 
age have fallen, have been agitating this question during 
the better part of a century, and are now going down to 
the grave still halting between two opinions. In the 
mean time their name is with the world, and their com- 
bined example is the argument to which the wicked ap- 
peal, that men may be as good out of the church as in 
it, and that if such persons of known and established 
character, venerable by age, and respected for their vir- 
tues, are safe unconnected with the church, others may 
be also. And there is no art which Satan practices that 
evinces more skill and cunning than in retaining such 
persons on what is deemed neutral ground, and in pre- 
venting, by a thousand pleas, their giving their names 
and their influence to the cause of decided pietv, and 
to God. ^ y 



INDECISION IN RELIGION. 79 

These are the persons whom I wish to address. I have 
classified them, in order that there may be no mistake as 
to who I mean ; and to each class, and each individual, 
I wish to address some remarks, showing the unreasona- 
bleness of remaining in this condition, and urging them 
to an immediate decision — either one way or the other. 
This was my 

II. Second object. Under this head, assuming mainly 
the form of direct address, I shall urge several considera- 
tions as reasons why a decision should be made without 
delay. 

(1.) The first is, that our great interests, if we have 
any great interests, or any that are much worth regard- 
ing, are on the subject of religion. If this be so, then 
religion is the last thing that should remain unsettled and 
undetermined. It can make very little difference to a 
man, whether he is rich or poor ; honored or despised ; 
sick or well ; a bondman or a slave. Whether there is 
an eternity or not, these things are comparatively of 
trifling moment. How soon is the most exquisite earthly 
pleasure passed ! The charms of the sweetest melody, 
how soon it dies away on the ear ! The tenderest ties of 
friendship, how soon are they severed ! The most splen- 
did mansion, how soon it must be left ! The widest re- 
putation, how soon must we cease to enjoy it ! And so 
with the bitterest grief, the keenest sorrow, the most 
agonizing pain, how soon it is all gone ! Whether we 
are rich or poor, honored or dishonored, life is like a 
vapor that appears for a little time, and then vanishes 
away. Of what importance can it be to the vapor that 
you see in the morning as it lies on the mountain side, 
whether it be admired by a few more, or a few less mor- 
tals ; or whether it roll a little higher, or sink a little 
lower, since it must soon vanish in the beams of the morn- 
ing sun ? So of the vapor of life. The cloud that you 
see lie along the western sky, as the sun sinks behind 
the hills, so gorgeous, so changing, so beautiful, of what 
importance can it be whether a few more or a few less 
tints be painted there ; or whether a few more or a few 
less eyes gaze upon it — for the darkness of midnight will 
soon conceal it all. So with the beauty and the gorgeous- 
ness of life. So with your dress, your equipage, your 



SO PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

furniture, your dwellings. The night of death cometh, 
and will shut all from your view. 

If man has any great interests, they lie beyond the 
tomb. If he has none there, life is a bubble, a vapor, a 
gorgeous illusion, a changing cloud, a mist on the moun- 
tain side. And if this be so, it is as well for a man to 
make up his mind to it, and to eat and drink, for to-mor- 
row he dies. Then he should ascertain this, and have 
no trouble about the future. He should settle the ques- 
tion, and make as much of luxury and pastime ; of the 
feast and the dance ; of the theatre and the ball-room ; 
of riotous indulgence and of ambition, as possible. He 
should so settle it as to have no trouble from his con- 
science in the most riotous pleasures ; no fear of God in 
the scenes of sensual indulgence and mirth ; no fear of 
hell while he revels on the bounties which chance may 
spread around him ; no superstitious apprehensions of a 
judgment-seat while he rolls in dissipation, and tramples 
on the rights of others. For if there is no eternity, it is 
utter folly to act with reference to it ; if there is no hell, 
it is folly to be restrained by any such unfounded appre- 
hension ; if there is no God, then men should not be dis- 
turbed by any superstitious belief that his eye is upon 
them. But if there is a God, a heaven, a hell, an eter- 
nity, then life becomes a very different thing. Then man's 
great interests are transferred at once to the regions be- 
yond the grave. Then life, now so busy and active, be- 
comes so trifling that it may be said that all his interests 
are there. The great things which are to affect us most 
deeply do not cease, but just commence, when we lie 
down on a bed of death. There, amidst the darkness of 
the dying scene, existence is just begun ; and there we 
are just entering on the scenes which must thrill through 
the soul, and absorb all its powers forever. Then the 
eyes turned away from the gorgeousness of the illusive 
scene here — the vain pageant of this world — are opened 
upon the realities of the judgment-bar ; the throne of 
God ; and the splendors of the unchanging world. Then 
the ear made deaf by dying to the charms of sweet mu- 
sic, is opened to the sweet strains that float forever over 
the plains of heaven, or the groans and sighs of the world 
of wo. Then the soul, insensible longer to the comforts 



INDECISION IN RELIGION. SI 

or the sorrows of this life ; no longer affected by the plea- 
sures of friendship, or the evils of poverty, want, or pain, 
is made alive at once to the bliss of eternal love in hea- 
ven, or to the deep sorrows of that world of despair that 
shall endure forever. And *f this be so, then whatever 
other interests you may neglect, assuredly this should 
not be disregarded. Whatever else may be undecided, 
this should be settled. If a choice were to be made, as- 
suredly better to let health suffer than the soul die ; bet- 
ter to be a bankrupt than be damned ; better be without 
reputation here, than to meet the ever-enduring wrath of 
God ; better suffer your name to be blackened and calum- 
niated, than to sink beneath the avenging arm of Jeho- 
vah ; better let men kill the body, than to fall unprepared 
into the hands of that God who can destroy both soul 
and body in hell. 

(2.) A second consideration is, that you would suffer 
no other matter to remain undecided as this does. If you 
are sick, you leave no means untried to secure returning 
health. If you were in as much danger of becoming a 
bankrupt as you are of losing the soul, you would give 
yourself no rest until, if possible, you should feel your- 
self safe. If you had a richly-freighted ship at sea, and 
there was as much danger that she and her cargo would 
be lost as there is that your soul will, and there were any 
doubt about the insurance, you would lose no time in 
making the proper investigation. Your business, your 
property, your reputation, you would not leave as you 
do the concerns of the soul ; and if you did, it would be 
impossible for any man to become rich, or respected, or 
honored in the world. There is no other interest so un- 
settled as your religious interests ; there are no other 
opinions so unfixed ; no other purposes so vascillating. 
You leave no title-deeds, no investments, no stocks, no 
bonds, no notes in the same unsettled condition : and 
there is not a single department of your business ; a sin- 
gle scheme or plan of life that is not more carefully looked 
at, and better known than the question about eternity. 
Were there this day half the danger that you would 
come to poverty, that there is that you will sink down to 
hell, no words would be wanting or needed to induce you 
to examine your prospects, and contemplate your condi- 



PRACTICAL SERM0>"5. 

tion. Nay, have you never witnessed this fact ? Have 
you not seen a man yesterday in affluence, with the luxu 
ries and comforts of the world around him; have yoi 
not seen that man, when a blast of misfortune has come 
over him, pale, and agitated, and alarmed; have you no 
seen how sleep has forsaken his pillow, and how he ha$ 
given himself no rest under the threatening storm ? Anc 
then have you not seen on the subject of religion, wher 
the great interests of the soul are urged, and his dangei 
set forth, how unconcerned, how listless, how regardless 
of all the proofs of danger ; how mimoved by even th 
conviction that there all was unsettled, and in danger ! 

(3.) A third consideration is, that it is possible to come 
to a decision on this subject; and if possible, an affair of 
so much importance should not remain undecided. It is 
possible for a man to find out whether there is any reli- 
gion ; whether the Christian religion is true or false ; 
whether the true religion is preferable to false religion ; 
whether Christianity is preferable to infidelity ; whether 
there is a God, a Saviour, a heaven, and a hell. It i; 
possible for a man to know whether there is such a thing 
as the new birth, and the pardon of sin ; and whether there 
is, or is not, any such thing as joy and peace in believing 
the gospel. I say it is possible, for the following among 
other reasons: (1.) Because it is as easy for a man to 
understand his own character on the subject of religion 
as it is on other subjects. In the nature of the case there 
is no more reason why a man should not know whether 
he loves God, than there is whether he loves an earthly 
father or friend. (2.) Because thousands and millions, 
with no better advantages than you have, have been en- 
abled to settle the question, and to arrive at decided 
views. They have so settled it that they have been en- 
abled to look to the grave with peace," and to heaven 
with triumph ; so settled it that doubt has fled, and left 
their minds tranquil and serene. (3.) Because it is not 
reasonable to believe that God would leave this matter to 
uncertainty, or put it beyond our power to arrive at som 
settled views on the subject of religion. No man should 
charge it on him unless he has positive demonstration 
that he has put it utterly beyond his power to arrive at 
any determined views about his own character, his Crea- 



INDECISION IN RELIGION. 83 

tor, and the world to come. (4.) Because he has given 
us reason for this very purpose, and endowed us with 
faculties for investigating the whole subject, and if a man 
will not employ his reason, he must answer it to God. 
(5.) Because he has given us the Bible for this very end ; 
and has, in the Bible, given us all the information which 
is needful in regard to his own character and ours ; to the 
plan of salvation ; to death and hell. No man can pre- 
tend that there is not in the Bible knowledge enough, if 
it is true, about God and the future state ; — and whether 
it is true or not, a man may, if he chooses, be able to 
understand. And (6.) Because in the Bible he expressly 
calls on us to decide ; to take a stand ; to be settled in 
our views. Thus in the text, " If Jehovah be God, then 
follow him ; but if Baal, then follow him." Thus Moses, 
" I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, 
that I have set before. you life and death, blessing and 
cursing ; therefore choose life." And every where in 
the Bible, God calls on men to be decided, and firm, and 
settled in their views on the subject of religion. 

Now I know it is possible for men to be vacillating 
and unsettled on the subject of religion. But if they are, 
it is not the fault of God. If they have no settled views, 
it must be traced to something else than to a want of 
means to obtain them. There is a ship, suppose, in a 
dark night at sea. There are rocks and quicksands near. 
There are currents that are setting towards the shore, and 
the wind is rising, and every thing indicates a tempest. 
There is a chart and a compass near the helmsman. But 
he is unsettled in his views and his aims. He will neither 
look at his compass nor his chart, but he begins to be 
distressed, and he turns his helm this way and that way, 
and he guides his ship by caprice, and she moves in a 
zig-zag course, and his hope is chance, and a few more 
moments in this way will dash the ill-fated vessel on a 
rock. Meantime many a mariner has gone calmly 
through those seas, and stood out with a bold front and 
swelling canvass to the ocean, and seen the tempest rise 
without alarm, and been unmoved when cloud has been 
piled on cloud, and the ocean been lashed into foam, and 
the lightnings have played, and the thunder has rolled 
along the deep. Human life is a voyage • and men act 



SI PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

in reference to that, not as the skilful mariner does on the 
deep, but as no mariner ever did, or ever will. They 
have the chart and the compass in their own dwellings, 
but they will not look at them; and they are unsettled in 
their views, and when the storm arises, and danger 
deepens, they are alarmed, and when they die their 
hopes become a wreck. 

(4.) The fourth consideration is, that the things about 
which a man is to decide are few in number, and may 
easily be determined. In our text, it was a simple choice 
which was to be made. There were but two objects be- 
fore the mind, and the call was to determine which of 
them was to be acknowledged as God. So it is still. 
Were the question what selection a man would make 
among the rabble of Pagan gods, it would be more diffi- 
cult to determine. But the questions which you are to 
settle are all of them very simple, and may be stated in 
few words. They are, whether you will worship Jeho- 
vah or Mammon — for both cannot be served. Whether 
you will depend on Jesus Christ for salvation, or not — 
for you cannot depend on him and your own morality. 
Whether you will forsake your sins or not — for you can- 
not be saved while you adhere to them. Whether you 
will live to God, or to yourselves — for you cannot do 
both. Whether you will give your heart to the Redeemer 
or not — for you cannot be saved until this is done. Whe- 
ther you will renounce the works of the flesh and the 
devil, and come out from the world, and abandon its 
vices and its gaieties or not — for both cannot be followed. 
Now, these questions are very simple. The choice here 
lies in a very narrow compass. The main points require 
little investigation, and the mind may be settled at once. 
Why should a man hesitate on any one of them ? 
Why suppose that there was any thing peculiarly mys- 
terious or difficult in regard to these enquiries ? What 
is the necessity for delaying it from day to day, and even 
from year to year ? These are the questions which in fact 
are before the mind. And these are the points, and no 
other, on which the mind hesitates, and is in doubt. The 
perplexity is here in these practical matters, and not in 
any imaginary metaphysical difficulty or abstruseness in 



INDECISION IN RELIGION. 85 

the questions which are involved. And this leads me to 
state, as a 

(5.) Fifth consideration, that this state of mind must be 
one that is infinitely displeasing to God. What are the 
feelings of a father, if he learns that a child is seriously 
pondering the question whether he shall or shall not love 
and obey him ; whether he shall or shall not prefer his 
father's good name to his disgrace, his father's society to 
the society of the unprincipled and the vile, his father's 
dwelling to the gambling room, and to the tavern, and 
the house of infamy ? What would be his feelings should 
he learn that that sen has been debating these questions 
in his own mind for weeks or years ; that he is able to 
come to no settled decision on the subject ; that he be- 
comes more and more perplexed about it ; and that in 
the mean time he is in fact spending his nights with the 
infamous, and is rioting on his father's beneficence, and 
abusing his credulity and good nature ? Now, in like 
manner, it is scarcely possible to conceive a state of mind 
more wicked than a serious and protracted examination 
of the question when it is fairly brought before a man, 
whether he shall love God or hate him ; whether he shall 
continue to reject the Saviour and crucify him afresh, or 
embrace him; whether he shall serve his Creator and 
keep his laws, or whether he shall defile himself with 
every form of abominable pollution and sin. Why should 
a man agitate such a question at all ? And if it occurs 
to him, why not take some measures to settle it, and come 
to some fixed views in regard to it ? Better a thousand 
times that it be settled any way than to be a question 
which a man is agitating from week to week, and from 
year to year. 

(6.) A sixth consideration is, that you will never be in 
circumstances more favorable for a decision than the pre- 
sent. If there were any prospect that God would send 
a new revelation more complete than the present, or if 
his word did not contain all the light which we have rea- 
son to expect, or which we needed, the case would be 
different. But of any such new revelation there is no 
prospect ; and there is' as little necessity as there is a pros- 
pect of it. You have all that can ever shed light on your 
path ; all that will ever be given you to aid you in coming 
8 



56 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

to a decision. The word of life is in your dwellings and 
in your hands; the lamp of salvation shines on your 
way. fhere will be no new prophet sent into the world; 
there will be no new miracle; no voice will be uttered 
from heaven to remove your perplexity; and the dead 
will not be raised to resolve your doubts. You have 
Moses, and the prophets, and the apostles, and the Re- 
deemer; and were the dead to rise, if you will not hear 
the risen Son of God, you would not be persuaded though 
a man should come now from the tomb. 

What prospect is there that there will be any increased 
facility for coming to a decision on the subject? That 
aged man, venerable already by years, whose mind is 
now undecided — what increased advantages will he ever 
have for coming to a decision ? Will his mind ever be 
clearer, his reason more powerful, his conscience more 
quick, his perception of the truth more vivid ? Does he 
not see that the powers of nature are decaying, and that 
memory will soon fail, and his mind become weakened 
and bewildered ? And does he not see that his sands are 
few in number, and that very soon he must be removed 
to a world where this cannot be a subject of deliberation? 
That man in middle life — will he ever be in circum- 
stances more favorable for a decision ? His powers are 
mature and active ; he cannot plead that he is urged on 
by the passions of youth ; and he labors not yet under 
the apathy, the imbecilities, and the infirmities of age. 
He can look reasonably for no greater strength of mind ; 
no greater tenderness of conscience ; no more solemn 
appeals than God is now making to him. Think you, 
that amidst the infirmities of advanced years, it will be a 
more favorable time to come to a decision on the subject 
than the present ? And how know you that you will live 
to advanced years ? And who has given you a right to 
serve Mammon now, with the purpose to serve God 
hereafter ; to devote your best powers to the service of 
sin and the world, with the design to give to God the 
miserable remnant of your days, in an enfeebled, and dis- 
contented, and peevish old age, when you can do no 
honor to religion, and no service to the world ? Can it be 
unknown to you, that as the effect of just such a purpose 
as this, many a man grieves away the Spirit of God : is 



INDECISION IN RELIGION. 87 

given up to the sordid love of gain ; becomes callous to 
the appeals of the gospel ; becomes a comfortless and a 
peevish old man ; lives without usefulness, and dies with- 
out hope ? And that interesting young man, or young 
female — can they have a more favorable time to decide 
this question than now — to-day ? Will there be a time 
when the mind will be more tender, more susceptible of 
serious impressions, more awake to the importance of 
the subject ? Will there be a time when they will be 
more free from care, and anxiety, and concern about this 
world ? Can there be a period when it will be more 
proper to determine and settle definitely the course that 
shall be pursued through life ? When a new and gallant 
ship, with her sails all set, and her masts all firm, and her 
movement beautiful upon the waters, becomes ready 
for a distant voyage on a sea full of rocks and mighty 
currents, when is the proper time to determine what 
course shall be steered ? When she has committed her- 
self to the mercy of winds and waves to try her strength 
in buffeting them, and has been tossed on unknown seas, 
or when she leaves the port ? Shall her master steer for 
some distant port, and lay down her course, and pursue 
it amidst all the storms that may howl, or shall the vessel 
start forth in her pride, and dance from wave to wave, 
until she strikes suddenly upon a rock ? And when, my 
young friend, is the best time for you to be decided on 
the subject of religion ? When you start on the voyage 
of life. Before the tempests shall beat, and the winds 
howl. Before you drift into unknown seas. Before you 
dash upon the rock. Now is the time to settle this great 
question. To-day is the proper period to determine whe- 
ther you will be for God or for the world ; a Christian or 
an infidel ; a candidate early ripe for heaven, or a candi- 
date early ripe for hell. 

(7.) I add but one other consideration. The present 
is the only time which you may have to decide this point. 
To-morrow may find you in another world. To-morrow 
God may have "decided the question forever. This long 
delay, this hesitancy, this indecision may provoke his 
wrath ; and in judgment he may come forth and cut you 
down as a cumberer of the ground. You cannot remain 
always as you are. There must be a decision ; and if 



gg PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

thai derision is not made by a voluntary preference for 
God, it will be made by a removal to a world where it 
will not be a subject of deliberation. Death will close 
this vacillating scene. Death will clear up the doubts 
from the mind. Death will fix that which is unfixed ; 
determine that which is undetermined; and render change- 
less that which is now fluctuating as the waves of the sea. 
In view, now, of all these considerations, I call on you 
this day to take your stand; to make up your mind to 
one course or another; to resolve to serve God or to be 
his avowed and settled foo ; to be a Christian, or to cast 
in your name and influence with sin, and against Jesus 
Christ ; to subscribe with your own hand to this fixed 
purpose of life, whatever it may be ; and to cast the die 
for time and eternity. I call on you to make a choice. I 
appeal to you to settle this question. I apprize you that 
it will be easier to settle it now than it will be on a 
dying bed. I ask that it may be settled on those seats ; 
and in the name of my God and yours, I solemnly 
warn every one against leaving this house to-day with- 
out having made up his mind definitively on this subject. 
If Jehovah be God, then follow him ; if Baal, then fol- 
low him ; if Mammon, then follow him ; if Bacchus, 
then follow him. If Jesus Christ be the Redeemer of the 
world, then embrace him. But if there be no Saviour, 
then settle the point that you have no Saviour, and that, 
in your view, the world is without a Redeemer. If the 
Bible be a revelation from heaven, then embrace its 
offers, and cling to its promises. But if there be no reve- 
lation, then yield yourself to the miserable darkness of 
your own reason, and give no credit to the Bible as hav- 
ing any claims to your belief or homage. If there be a 
heaven, resolve here, and now, and in the presence of 
God, that you will seek it as the grand purpose of the 
soul ; if there be a hell, resolve here, and now, and be- 
fore God, that you will never mingle in its groans, and 
gnash your teeth with its pain ;— if there be neither, then 
go— go, miserable creature of a day— go, vapor of morn- 
ing dew— go, wretched dweller in a world of sin and 
pain ; go, thou who hast no prospect of life everlasting ; 
who hast no hope of existence beyond the grave ; who 
hast no God and no Saviour— -go, " eat and drink, for 
to-morrow you die !" 



SERMON VI. 

THE REASONS WHY MEN ARE NOT CHRISTIANS. 
Luke xiv. 18. I pray thee have me excused. 

It is worth every man's while to ascertain the exact 
reason why he is not a Christian. It is to be presumed 
that he who is not a Christian has some reason for 
remaining in his present state, or that there is some 
cause why he does not embrace the offers of the gospel 
which are pressed so constantly on his attention. If he 
has any good reason — any such as exempts him from the 
obligation resting on other men to give their hearts to 
God, it would be well for him distinctly to understand it. 
It would be well also to enquire whether that on which 
he is relying is in fact a substantial reason, and is such 
as will abide the investigations of the last day. If a man 
has a good reason for not being a Christian, it is such as 
will meet with the approbation of God, and will admit 
him to heaven without reliance on the merits of the Sa- 
viour — for what is a sufficient reason now, will be a 
sufficient reason then ; what will be valueless then, is 
worthless now. 

It is a part of my duty to search out the causes why 
men are not Christians, and to endeavor to remove them. 
Doing the best that I can to learn those causes, I am to 
come and do the best that I can to remove them ; and 
where I am convinced that those reasons are not solid, to 
attempt to show men why they are not so. Such an at- 
tempt requires candor on your part ; kindness and fidelity 
on mine. I propose, therefore, at this time, to submit to 
you the result of my reflections and observation on this 
subject ; and my remarks will be confined to two points 
— the causes or reasons why men are not Christians ; and 
the enquiry whether those causes are satisfactory. 

1. Our first point relates to the causes or reasons why 
men are not Christians ; or in other words, why they wish 
to be excused from being Christians — which is the form 
in which it is presented in the text. 

S* 80 



iH) PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

There is something remarkable in the aspect which the 
subject assumes on the first view of it. Men ask to be 
excused, as if it were a matter of favor. It is natural to 
disk, from what? From a rich banquet, says the parable 
from which my text is taken. From the hope of heaven 
through Jesus Christ. From loving God, and keeping his 
commandments* From having the peace of mind of 
which all who are Christians partake ; from the support 
in trial which religion indubitably furnishes to those that 
love it; from the consolation on a bed of death which re- 
ligion gives, and from the prospect of immortal glory be- 
yond. From that which is fitted to make a man more 
useful, respected, and beloved in life ; remembered with 
deeper affection when he is dead ; honored forever in hea- 
ven. From that which will take from him no property ; 
inflict no pain ; create no remorse ; cause no anguish ; 
and never produce a sigh. From that which would be 
invaluable to him in the various circumstances of trial to 
which he is subjected in common with other men in this 
life, and which perhaps he will admit is indispensable to 
his immortal happiness beyond the grave. If it were 
from poverty and disgrace ; from anguish of spirit and 
remorse ; from the loss of the favor of friends, and of 
the world, we could easily understand why he would 
wish to be excused. But when we search for the rea- 
sons why a man wishes to be excused from that which 
will promote his own best interest in this world, and for- 
ever; from that which he needs, and knows he needs, 
and which all his nature pants and sighs for ; from that 
which gives the brightest ornament of character when 
living, and the sweetest consolation to his friends when 
dead, it is necessary that we look deeper that we may 
know the true reason. It is an anomaly in the character 
of man. 

In searching for the causes or reasons why men wish 
to be excused from becoming Christians, I may be allow- 
ed to suggest that they are often under a strong tempta- 
tion to conceal those which are real, and to suggest others 
which will better answer their immediate purpose. My 
idea is, that the real cause in not always avowed, and 
that men are strongly tempted to suggest others. The 



THE REASONS WHY MEN ARE NOT CHRISTIANS. 91 

actual reason may be such as, on many accounts, a man 
would have strong reluctance to have known. It may 
be such as would make it easy to answer it ; or such as 
would be likely to be a very mortifying avowal, and 
which would be rather a publication of guilt than a rea- 
son for not being a Christian ; and there is, therefore, a 
strong temptation for a man, when hard pressed with the 
claims of duty, to resort to statements which will make 
it more difficult to reply. A man that is proud, or sen- 
sual, or ambitious, or profane, or who has embarked in 
some yet unexecuted plan of iniquity, would be slow to 
avow these as reasons why he does not become a Chris- 
tian — though these may be in fact the real causes. He 
would be under a strong temptation to suggest, and would 
be likely to suggest, some such reasons as the following. 
That he has no ability to repent and believe the gospel. 
That the heart is changed by the power of God, and that 
it is a work entirely beyond his control. That God has 
determined, by an unalterable decree, the number of those 
who will be saved, and that any efforts of his cannot 
change the fixed purpose of God. That if he is to be 
saved he will be, and that at all events he is so depen- 
dent and so helpless, he must wait until God shall in- 
terpose and renew his heart. These objections, though 
not the real ones, are embarrassing,- and difficult to be 
answered. They involve perplexing questions, and those 
which we admit we cannot always instantly solve. And 
since this is so, there is a strong temptation to suggest 
them, even where they are not the real causes, and it is 
not uncharitable to suppose that they may be sometimes 
urged when the real causes would be wholly different. 

Supposing myself that these are not the actual reasons 
at work to prevent men from becoming Christians, I shall 
now proceed to state what I suppose are ; and shall sub- 
mit what I have to say to your candid attention. 

The grand reason why men are not Christians, as I 
understand it, is the opposition of the heart to religion ; 
that mysterious opposition that can be traced back through 
all hearts, and all generations, up to the great apostacy — 
the fall of Adam. All who have become Christians have 
felt the power of this native opposition to holiness, and 
have been willing to confess, that in their case, this was 



92 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

the reason why they did not sooner yield to God. It 
would be easy, I think, to prove that the same thing ex- 
ists in all other hearts, and that it is not possible to ac- 
count for the universal rejection of the gospel on any 
other supposition. The reason and the conscience of 
men are on the side of religion. There is no want of 
evidence of the truth of Christianity ; and such want of 
evidence is not alleged by many as a reason why they 
are not Christians. All those who are disposed to find 
evidence of the truth of religion, find enough to be en- 
tirely satisfactory to their own minds, and are willing to 
risk' the welfare of their souls on its truth. No man 
who was disposed to serve God, ever went back and re- 
jected Christianity because there was a lack of evidence 
such as the mind wants in such a case. If this be so, 
then there is in the human heart something lying back of 
all this that is the reason why men are not Christians ; 
and that, I need not pause to prove, is the unwillingness 
of the heart to yield, or the opposition of the soul by 
nature to God. 

Bat though this is the original difficulty, and is the 
actual cause why men cannot be persuaded to be Chris- 
tians, yet it assumes a great variety of forms, and ap- 
pears in a great variety of aspects. It goes forth like 
streams that issue from a fountain, and like one of those 
streams we often see it only at a great distance from the 
source. It appears sometimes in a form that scarcely 
seems to savor of opposition, and under an aspect so 
mild, so sweet, so winning, that you can scarcely believe 
that all this is connected with opposition of heart to all 
that is good. Let us now leave this general cause, and 
ask what are the actual reasons why men are not Chris- 
tians. They are, as I understand them, such as the fol- 
lowing. 

(1.) A feeling that you do not need salvation in the 
way proposed in the gospel ; that you do not need to be 
born again, or pardoned through the merits of the Re- 
deemer. The feeling is, that your heart is by nature 
rather inclined to virtue than to vice, to good* than to 
evil ; that the errors of your life have been compara- 
tively few, your virtues many ; that the follies which are 
justly to be charged on you, pertain to less important 



THE REASONS WHY MEN ARE NOT CHRISTIANS. 93 

points, and do not affect the integrity of your character ; 
that they were such as were to be expected of those of 
your age, and of your time of life, and such as are easily 
pardonable. Your intentions, you would say, have been 
good. You have been honest and honorable in business. 
You have been faithful in the discharge of the duties of 
a professional or an official station. As a merchant, a 
lawyer, a director of a bank or an insurance company ; 
as a magistrate, or as a representative in any commercial 
or civil interest, you are conscious of having acted with 
good intentions, and your character is above suspicion. 
You have the deserved reputation of an honest man ; and 
to that you may have superadded more than mere honesty 
— you are a large hearted and a liberal man. With the 
doctrine of total depravity, therefore, on which we feel 
it our duty so much to insist, you have no sympathy — 
and you do not, therefore, feel your need of an interest 
in that religion of which the doctrine of the fall and ruin 
of man is the very ground-work. 

(2.) You suppose that in your case there is no danger 
of being lost — or not such danger as to make it a subject 
of serious alarm. This feeling grows out of the former, 
and is a direct consequence of it. The idea is this, that 
if the duties of this life be discharged with faithfulness, 
there can be no serious ground of apprehension in regard 
to the world to come. You do not regard it as credible 
that a moral and upright man can be seriously in danger 
of eternal punishment ; and you expect that the compa- 
ratively trivial errors and follies of your life will be easily 
overlooked, and that the future may be not unsafely left 
without anxiety. This would not, you feel, be a popu- 
lar doctrine. All sincere Christians, and among them 
some of your best friends, would differ from you in this 
view. You do not covet the name of an Universalist ; 
you would rather avoid it. You do not covet contro- 
versy ; you would rather avoid it. You do not wish to 
pain the hearts of your friends by their being made to 
understand exactly your views on the subject ; you would 
rather avoid that. Your sentiments, therefore, are locked 
up in your own bosom, and you do not choose to disclose 
what is passing in the secret chambers of the soul about 



1 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

the final doom of man. But while these feelings arc 
cherished, it is evident that you will make no effort to 
secure your salvation grounded on an apprehension of 
danger, and we plead in vain that you would give your 
mind attentively to the subject of religion. 

(3.) A third cause operating on a large class is this. It 
is a secret scepticism about the truth of Christianity. 
The mind is not settled. The belief is not firm that it is 
a revelation from heaven. There is a secret doubt as to 
the truth of the whole system, or there is a special doubt 
in regard to some of its cardinal and leading doctrines. 
The mind has been poisoned by some book long since 
read ; or some conversation long since had with an infi- 
del ; or by some train of reflections which has been 
allowed to work a channel through the soul in its own 
way ; or by some lodgement of a doubt there which you 
have never found time to remove ; and while these doubts 
exist, of course you will not be a Christian. Yet these 
you would not avow — except in a circle quite select and 
confidential. They would be more likely to be disclosed 
in the literary and scientific circles than at your own fire- 
side. They will be more likely to be spoken of to your 
male companion and friend, than in the presence of your 
sister, or wife, or mother. But you do not intend to avow 
them. They would be unpopular. The current now is 
setting strongly in favor of Christianity ; and no literary 
or scientific man in this country wishes to risk his repu- 
tation by publicly avowing any doubts about the truth 
of the Bible. There is no such avowal. None such 
would be tolerated. Yet if I have any just knowledge 
of man, and of the operations of his heart, there are not 
a few who are deterred from being Christians by some 
sceptical feeling on some of the points of religion. 

(4.) A fourth class are deterred by a feeling that the 
divine government is unreasonable and severe. In one 
of his parables, the Saviour has taught us expressly that 
this operated in preventing a man from doing his duty, 
and being prepared for his coming. « I know thee," said 
the man who had received the one talent, " I know thee, 
that thou art an hard man, reaping where thou hast not 
sown, and gathering where thou hast not strewed \ andl 



THE REASONS WHY MEN ARE NOT CHRISTIANS. 95 

I was afraid, and went and hid thy talent in the earth." 
Matt. xxv. 24, 25. Often it is so with a man now. We 
ask him to give up his opposition, and to fix on God 
higher affections than he does on any and all other be- 
ings. We ask him to repose such confidence in him as 
to be willing to give up all into his hands, and to surren- 
der all to his disposal. W 7 hen we do this, he at once in 
his own mind recurs to some view which he has of God, 
rendering him unworthy of that confidence which we 
entreat him to repose in him. He thinks of his law as 
rigid and severe ; of his government as unnecessarily 
strict in marking offences ; of the arrangement by which 
he suffered sin and the overflowing deluge of woes that 
have come in by the fall and fault of one man ; of the 
severity of the sentence by which he dooms the impeni- 
tent to an eternal hell ; — and he has so long accustomed 
his mind to such dark views of the divine character, that 
he sees no beauty in it ; feels that if he were to surren- 
der, it would be a forced submission altogether; and 
sometimes feels — though he would not allow himself to 
express it — as if there was virtue in being alienated from 
such a being as God. In this state of mind, it is out of 
the question for a man to become a Christian. Every 
view which he has of the divine government would stand 
in the way of his conversion ; and argument and entreaty 
are in vain. 

(5.) A fifth class are deterred from being Christians by 
hostility to some member or members of the church. 
They have made bargains with them ; sold them goods ; 
taken their notes ; credited them as they have other 
men. They have seen, they would say, in one Chris- 
tian great meanness of spirit ; in another a disposition 
to take every advantage in a bargain ; in another who 
has failed in business, such proofs of dishonesty as would 
be disgraceful to men who made scarce any pretensions 
to the principles of common honesty. In another they 
have had the certain promise of the payment of a 
debt which has as certainly failed ; in another they 
cannot resist the conviction that he is chargeable with 
fraud. All this is set down to the credit of Christianity ; 
and it needs no great knowledge of human nature to see 



96 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

that where this is seen or suspected, men cannot be easily 
persuaded to embrace a system which produces such fruits. 
/ acknowledge the force of this; or rather I acknowledge 
that it would be difficult to prevent this effect on my 
mind. Little conversant as a minister is, and ought to 
be, with the commercial and political world; and little 
knowledge as he must of necessity have of the ordinary 
business transactions of life, I confess I have seen and 
known enough of this to cease to wonder at its inevitable 
effect on the minds of upright men of business; and if 
there is any man of whom I would speak in the lan- 
guage of unrestrained severity, it is of the professing 
Christian who is mean in the transaction of business ; 
who makes promises only to be broken ; who takes ad- 
vantage of the necessity of others to increase his gains ; 
who borrows money not to be repaid ; and who fails in 
business where falsehood and fraud attend the whole 
transaction. 

(6.) A sixth reason which prevents men from becom- 
ing Christians is worldliness — the desire of this world's 
goods, or pleasures, or honors. Of all the causes which 
are in operation, this is the most wide-spread and effi- 
cient. The great mass of men where the gospel is 
preached are not infidels or scoffers, nor are they sunk in 
low and debasing vices. And though many are deterred 
from being Christians by secret unbelief, or by open vice ; 
by some strong ruling passion which they wish still to 
indulge, and from which they cannot be induced to part, 
yet the largest proportion by far of those whom we ad- 
dress is deterred by the love of this world. It is that 
love of wealth, to accumulate and preserve which occu- 
pied all their time and talent, which prevents their study- 
ing the word of God, and keeps them from prayer ; 
which leads them often into forbidden paths, trenches on 
the sacredness of the Sabbath, creates and fosters some 
of the passions most opposed to the gospel, and which 
causes them to defer attention to religion to some future 
period. It is that love of pleasure, of gaiety, of fashion, 
of admiration, of hilarity, of excitement in the unreal 
world when they seek enjoyment, that drives away all 
sober reflection, every serious thought, and every degree 



THE REASONS WHY MEN ARE NOT CHRISTIANS. .97 

of solicitude about the soul ; which closes their Bibles, 
and which makes prayer a mockery ; which is so unlike 
the spirit of Jesus and his gospel— it is this which ope- 
rates with a large class in preventing them from becom- 
ing Christians. It is that ambition which reigns in the 
heart of the unrenewed man ; that fondness for being 
known, and praised, and remembered, whether it mani- 
fest itself in laying the foundation for lasting literary 
fame ; or for eminence in the learned professions ; or for 
official elevation — it is this which excludes religion from 
the heart. Where one is deterred from being a Chris- 
tian by infidelity or gross vice, ten are kept back by one 
of these manifestations of worldiiness. Let the desire 
of distinction in the ranks of worldiiness seize upon the 
mind, the ambition of going up the steeps of fame from 
one summit to another, until you can stand on the top 
and look all around and see all the world at your feet, 
and you bid farewell to every serious thought, and every 
desire of heaven. Rendered dizzy by the height to which 
you have already ascended, and excited to climb the still 
more dangerous eminences which are just above you, 
and which it seems to be desirable to surmount, the whole 
soul becomes absorbed in that high enterprize, and all its 
energies are concentrated there. And so in a family. I 
know of nothing that is a more deadly foe to religion in 
a family than this miserable ambition — this desire of en- 
tering on terms of intimacy the circles of the aristocracy 
of fashion and wealth ; this desire of leaving the quiet 
vale of virtue and of peace for the mortifications, and 
rebuffs, and heart-breakings attending the effort to elbow 
a family into circles for which God never designed them, 
and where they can never be either happy or welcome. 
The great cause why men are not Christians is worldii- 
ness ; and this is the grand reason why so many are 
excluded from the kingdom of God here and in the skies. 
I have not time to go through the statement of the 
causes as I had intended. I might speak of the dread 
which men have of the process of conversion ; of the 
fear of the gloom and sadness which they suppose pre- 
cedes and accompanies regeneration : of the fear of the 
ridicule and scorn of the world — operating on all minds ; 



<)§ PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

of the love of some sin — some ruling vice — some master 
passion that has ascendancy over the soul, but which 
men are ashamed to have known, and to which they are 
too much attached to surrender it; and of the purpose 
which is in most hearts to attend to religion at a future 
time of life. But I have occupied too much time already 
to speak of these, and it is possible now only to make a 
few remarks on the second subject proposed. 

II. That was, to enquire whether these reasons for not 
being a Christian are satisfactory. Satisfactory to whom? 
you may ask. I answer, to conscience and to God. Are 
they such as are sufficient reasons for not loving God ? 

The duty of loving God with all the heart, is the first 
duty recommended to men by every precept of natural 
and revealed religion. The duty of repentance is enjoin- 
ed by all that is sacred in divine authority, and is re* 
sponded to by the conscience of every sinner. The duty 
of faith in the Lord Jesus — the great and only Saviour 
of mankind — is demanded on the fore front of the Chris- 
tian message, and solemnly declared to be essential to 
salvation. The necessity of being born again is urged 
in the Scriptures with a frequency and power of which 
my preaching is but the faint and feeble echo — often as 
I press it on your attention. No duty is prior to these in 
time or in momentousness. Any and every thing else 
may be better dispensed with than these. You can bet- 
ter by far do without the love of earthly friends than 
without the love of God. You can better by far do with- 
out the wealth of this world than the treasures of heaven. 
You can better do without an earthly mansion, even if 
the earth were your bed and the skies your covering, 
than without a building of God, a house eternal in the 
heavens. You can better by far do without fame and 
praise in this world, than you can without the appro- 
bation of God in the world to come. 

For these things you are neglecting him; you are 
neglecting your souls. Are the reasons which prompt 
you to it satisfactory ? Are they sufficient to render you 
guiltless for neglecting such high and sacred obligations ? 
Reflect a moment on the following considerations — the 
only remarks which I will detain you now to hear. 

(1.) You dare not yourselves urge them as the real 



THE REASONS WHY MEN ARE NOT CHRISTIANS. 99 

cause why you do not attend to religion, and embrace the 
offers of mercy. They are so little satisfactory to your 
own minds, that when we come to you and urge you to 
become Christians, we are met with other reasons than 
these. You resort to some difficulty about the doctrine 
of ability, and the decrees of God ; some metaphysical 
subtlety that you know may embarrass us, but which 
you think of on no other occasion. Who will dare to 
urge as a reason for not becoming a Christian the fact 
that he is sensual, or proud, or worldly minded, or am- 
bitious, or covetous, or self-righteous, or that he regards 
God as a tyrant ? And yet one or all of these may be 
the basis of every reason why you are not Christians. 
Can that be a satisfactory reason for a man's conduct 
which he is ashamed himself to avow ? Can that be the 
true reason which he avows for the purpose of embar- 
rassing others, while another is buried deep in his bosom ? 
(2.) These excuses will not stand when a man is 
convicted for sin. He then ceases to urge that he is up- 
right and moral; that he has injured no one ; that there 
can be no danger for one who has lived as he has done ; 
that there are hypocrites in the church ; that he has been 
wronged by professors of religion ; and that he is afraid 
of the ridicule of mankind. He feels then that he must 
have a better righteousness than can be manufactured 
out of such materials, and that with these excuses he 
cannot venture to appear at the bar of God. There is a 
power in conviction for sin which is in advance of all 
the arguments which men can urge. It is the power of 
the Holy Ghost — under whose influences cavils, and ob- 
- jections, and self-reliances suddenly vanish. Under that 
power, men feel at once, despite all that they have said, 
and all the arguments on which they have relied, that 
they are sinners, and that they are exposed to the wrath 
of God. It is the argument that is felt, and which is 
irresistible on the soul. There is an access to the soul 
of the sinner which God has, but which no mortal man 
can have, and I appeal now to the fact that when men 
are brought under conviction for sin, they at once see 
that all their excuses for not being Christians are vain. 
Who are they who are thus convicted ? Who, by the 
power of the Holy Ghost, have been made to see that 



100 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

they are sinners, and have yielded their hearts up to 
God? Need I answer? They are such as have urged 
all the excuses to which I have adverted in this discourse, 
or such as hare felt them all in their hearts. They are 
men who reason as well as who feel; they are those 
who were moral as well as those who were immoral ; 
men not strangers to learning and science, as well as 
those who are ignorant of letters; and they who have 
moved not without grace and loveliness in elevated ranks 
as well as those of more humble walks in life. All, 
when th'3 hour comes in which God designs to bring them 
into his kingdom, confess that they had no good reasons 
for not being his friends, and for their having so long re- 
fused to yield to the claims of God. 

(3.) The same thing occurs on the bed of death. The 
mind then is often overwhelmed, and under the convic- 
tion that the excuses for not being a Christian were in- 
sufficient, the sinner in horror dies. But I will not dwell 
on that. I pass to one other consideration. 

(4.^ It is this. These excuses will not be admitted 
at the bar of God. Suppose they were, what would fol- 
low ? Why, that you would enter heaven — for God will 
admit all to heaven, unless there is some good reason far 
not doing it. No man will be sent to hell unless there 
is a reason for it which will be satisfactory; a cause 
which cannot be removed by sympathy, or by infinite 
benevolence. If your excuses, then, for not being Chris- 
tians are good, they will be admitted on the final trial, and 
you will be received into heaven. And what then ? 
Why, you will be saved because you did not believe that 
you were as depraved as God had represented you to 
be ; and you, because you did not believe what he had 
said of future punishment ; and you, because you were 
sceptical on the whole subject of religion — saved by 
unbelief, not by faith ; and you, because you believed 
that God was cruel and tyrannical in his character and 
government, and because" there was so much merit in 
cherishing that opinion of him that he ought to save 
you ; and you, because his professed friends had injured 
you, and you hated religion on that account ; and yott, 
because you were so worldly, and ambitious, and vain, 
and proud, that you neglected religion altogether : yon, 



THE REASONS WHY MEN ARE NOT CHRISTIANS. 101 

because you were afraid of the ridicule of the world ; 
and you, because you cherished some ruling, forbidden 
lust which neither the command of God, nor the love of 
Christ, nor the fear of hell would induce you to surren- 
der. And then what a place would be heaven ! What 
sympathy you would have with the redeemed ! What 
communion of spirit with the martyrs ! What fellow- 
ship with the Lord Jesus ! What gratitude would you 
have to him for salvation ! But, my hearers, do you be- 
lieve that you are to be saved in that way ? — I, for one, 
do not. These are not the reasons why men are to enter 
into heaven. 

I wish to get, by this discourse, at least one idea be- 
fore your minds. It is this. If you have a good reason 
now for not being a Christian, it will be good at the bar 
of God. If not good then and there, it is worth nothing 
now. If it will not be the ground of your admission 
into heaven, it is of no value. Will you risk your soul's 
salvation, then, on the reasons which now operate to 
prevent your becoming a Christian? A question than 
which none more important ever demanded your atten- 
tion. 

I close here. You see the conclusion to which we 
have come. If these reasons are not satisfactory ; if 
none on which you rely are satisfactory, then you ought 
to be a Christian. — To be a Christian. There is safety. 
There the mind finds rest. There, in the love of God, 
and in dependence on the Saviour, and in the hope of 
heaven, man feels that he does right. For that he 
needs no excuse ; he desires no apology. He is con- 
scious of no wrong-doing when he gives up his heart to 
God ; he looks back with no self-reproaches for it when 
lie contemplates it from the bed of death. The reasons 
which induce him to give himself to God are conclusive 
to his own mind ; satisfactory to his friends ; approved 
by his Judge. No man has, or ever has had remorse of 
conscience for being a Christian ; no man has self-re- 
proaches for it on a bed of death. The mind then is at 
rest; it is free from the anguish of remorse, from alarms. 
Who, then, to-day will seek that peace, and the smiles of 
an approving conscience, and of God ? 

9* 



SERMON VII. 

THE MISERY OF FORSAKING GOD. 

Jeremiah ii. 13. My people have committed two evils ;— they hava 
forsaken me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, 
broken cisterns, that can hold no water. 

The text affirms that man is guilty of two evils. Due 
is, that he has wandered away from God. The other is, 
that he has sought for happiness in objects which are in- 
capable of affording it. There is the evil of guilt, and the 
evil of wretchedness ; the evil of withholding the affections 
from the true source of blessedness, and the evil of fixing 
them on improper objects ; the evil of going away from a 
fountain where happiness might be found, and the evil 
of attempting to find it in other objects as a compen- 
sation for that which is lost by forsaking God. Men 
have sought happiness by going away from God. They 
have been disappointed. They have not found it. That 
which they have found bears the same relation to true 
enjoyment which a cistern that is broken and leaky 
does to a running fountain. Such a cistern may have a 
great deal of beauty. It may be cut from the finest mar- 
ble, and ornamented with all the skill of art. It may 
be placed in a beautiful grove, or it may occupy the 
splendid court of an oriental palace— but if it is cracked 
and broken, however much it may be admired, it fails in 
the design for which it was made, and for which a cis- 
tern is desirable. 

Man has gone off from God, the great fountain of 
blessedness. He is a wanderer and an exile. He has 
substituted in the place of God that which is the fruit of 
his own invention, and thus far the history of this world 
is little else than an experiment to ascertain whether the 
soul can be satisfied without God, and whether the forms 
of amusement and business can be so modified and varied 
arid refined that man can find in them the happiness 
which his immortal nature demands. It is a most inter 

102 



THE MISERY OF FORSAKING GOD. 103 

esting inquiry whether he has been successful in the pur- 
suit, or whether it has been like forsaking a fountain 
bubbling in the desert for a splendid but broken cistern. 
To that enquiry I propose now to direct your attention. 
I shall confine my remarks to two points. 

I. What has man substituted in the place of God ? and 

II. Has it answered the purpose, or has it been suc- 
cessful ? 

I. What has man substituted in the place of the happi- 
ness which might have been found in God ? 

The text says that he has forsaken God — the fountain 
of living waters. Let us dwell a moment on these 
words. — " Living waters" They are not dead and stag- 
nant — but running — and imparting life. Nothing is more 
beautiful than a running stream. In the East the course 
of a stream through a desert can be traced afar by the 
trees, and shrubs, and flowers, and grass that spring up 
on its bank, and that are sustained by it in its course— 
along waving line of green in the waste of sand. Where 
it winds along, that line of verdure winds along ; where 
it expands into a lake that expands ; where it dies away 
and is lost in the sand that disappears. So with the 
blessedness flowing from the living fountain of waters. 
Life, the true life in this world, can be traced by the 
flowing forth of those streams from God. Where those 
streams flow, health and happiness spring up ; where they 
are unseen true happiness disappears, and the world is a 
desert. — " Ji fountain" God is a "fountain" of living 
waters — he is the source whence all the streams of bliss 
take their rise. The fountain is ever fresh, ever pure, ever 
full. The streams of blessedness begin to flow there ; and 
should that fountain cease, every stream would die away, 
and the whole world would be an arid waste. 

My proposition is, that men have forsaken that ever- 
living fountain. I do not now speak merely of the 
idolatrous world — of man who there has forsaken God, 
and who bows down to shapeless blocks. I speak of 
man as man — in whatever form the departure may ap- 
pear; and I rather wish to show how the human heart has 
gone off from God so that we may feel it of ourselves, 
than to turn your thoughts to far-distant idolaters and 
philosophers. I could illustrate it of the ancient Hebrews, 



101 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

the Hindoo, the Chinese, the Tartar, the African, the 
New Zealander; I could illustrate it by the opinions and 
feelings of the ancient philosopher; but I have a more 
striking and more interesting source of illustration here — 
ii\ our own families— and our own hearts— and the illus- 
tration will be confined mainly to ourselves. 

It can be scarcely necessary to go into an extended 
statement of what man has substituted in the place of the 
happiness which he is unwilling to seek in his Maker, or 
which is the same thing in the hopes and consolations of 
religion. A very brief enumeration is all that the time 
will admit, and is all that is demanded in order to a"pro- 
per understanding of our subject. 

A part have sought it in philosophy. They have re- 
treated from the bustle and the turmoil of life. They 
have sought enjoyment in calm contemplation on the re- 
lations of things, and on the abstract questions of philo- 
sophic inquiry. They have sought to raise themselves 
above suffering by rendering the mind insensible to the 
common ills of life, and they attempt to separate them- 
selves from the common herd of mortals by their insensi- 
bility to the woes which affect the mass of mankind. 
They are the stoics of all ages — who whether in the cos- 
tume and pride of the ancient Grecian philosophers ; or in 
the Buddhism of China and India; or in the monkish 
system of the middle ages ; or in the occasional victim oi 
this wretched insanity who retires to caverns and rocks 
in modern times ; or in the cool contemplative philosopher 
who lives but to speculate, or to laugh at the follies of 
mankind, have sought for happiness in the same way by 
supposing that it consisted in insensibility to suffering, 
and in that pride which looks with disdain on the mass 
of mankind. 

A part, men of leisure and of taste, fly to the acade- 
mic grove, and look for happiness there. They go up 
the sides of Parnassus, and drink from the Castalian fount, 
and court the society of the Muses. Their enjoyment, 
and their solace, is in the pursuit of elesrant literature. 
Their time is spent in belles-lettres— in the records of his- 
toric truth, or in the world of poetry and of fiction. Our 
land furnishes as yet less of this than countries where 
men are favored with more hereditarv wealth, and more 



THE MISERY OF FORSAKING GOD. 105 

"learned leisure;" but there are not a few who have 
such leisure, and not a few, it is to be feared, who sub- 
stitute such sources of happiness in the place of that 
which is derived from the fountain of living waters. As 
wealth increases; and as leisure is multiplied, the desire 
for this species of happiness will increase — increase not 
as it ought to in connexion with religion, and with the 
cultivation of the graces of a renovated spirit, but as the 
substitute for religion, and as in fact the excluder of 
God from the soul. From the cares and troubles of life 
they will flee to these calm retreats as a refuge, and seek 
there to forget their sorrows, and to escape from the 
dreadful apprehension of death and the judgment. 

Another, and a much larger portion, have substituted 
the pursuit of wealth in place of religion, and their hap- 
piness is there. This has become almost the universal 
passion of civilized man. Yet it is not happiness so much 
sought in the pursuit of wealth itself, as in something be- 
yond. The cultivator of elegant literature seeks his en- 
joyment in the pursuit itself, and tastes the bliss which 
he seeks as he goes on the journey of life ; the man seek- 
ing wealth expects his happiness not in the pursuit, but 
in that which wealth will procure. He looks on to the 
old age of elegant retirement and leisure which is before 
him ; he sees in vision the comforts which he will be able 
to draw around him in the splendid mansion, and grounds, 
and in the abundance which his old age will enjoy. He 
crosses the ocean, and spends the vigor of his days in 
Calcutta or in Canton, not because he has pleasure in a 
voyage at sea ; or in the long exile from home ; or in the 
society in a distant land ; or in the burning heats of a tro- 
pical sun, but because he has fixed his eye on the com- 
forts which amassed wealth will spread around him when 
he shall return. 

A large portion, perhaps nearly as large a portion as 
can afford the means — and many of those who cannot — 
seek for happiness in the brilliant world of songs and 
dances; in the splendid circles where God is forgotten, 
and where prayer is unknown. For that they live ; and 
the pleasure which is sought there is made a substitute 
for that which might be, and which should be sought in 
God. No one can deny that vast talent is often exhibited 



ICh; practical sermons. 

to make that gay world fascinating and alluring; and 

that no inconsiderable success is evinced in accomplishing 
the object in view. It would be strange if such a plan 
were wholly unsuccessful. With princely wealth at 
command; with ample leisure; with the full choice of 
means; and with a heart intently set on the object, it 
would bo strange if something could not. be originated 
that would, for the time being, be some substitute for the 
happiness which should be sought in God. But nothing 
on earth was ever designed in a more determinate man- 
ner to exclude God. Neither prayer, nor praise, nor 
worship of any form ; neither the remembrance of God, 
nor the anticipation of a holy heaven ; neither conversa- 
tion on the Bible, the cross, or the peace of pardon and 
hope, come in for any share of the joys. It begins by 
forsaking the fountain of living waters, and it is conducted 
by whatever can be best made a substitute for the happi- 
ness to be found in religion. 

I might go on to speak of many other substitutes which 
men have adopted in the place of the happiness which 
should be sought in God, and which constitute the ( cis- 
terns, broken cisterns which they have hewed out for 
themselves.' I might speak of the career of high and 
so-called honorable ambition — whether manifested in 
seeking office, in deeds of glory or the battle-field, in the 
walks of science, or in the pride of authorship ; of the 
drama, with all that is fascinating and captivating there ; 
of the love of travel, and of hazardous enterprise in visit- 
ing distant lands ; of the arts of painting, and music, and 
statuary ; of the pleasures of the table ; of the couch of 
luxury and ease, and of the indulgence in " the lusts that 
war against the soul" — of the low and debasing vices 
in which so many millions of the human race are at all 
times seeking enjoyment. Not all these things would I 
condemn for the same reason ; some of them, if pursued 
with right motives, are not to be condemned at all. I 
speak of them only as substitutes for the happiness which 
men might find in God ; as devices to which they have 
resorted to make their sojourn on earth in any way toler- 
able, and as adapted to hide as much as possible the me- 
lancholy close of that sojourn from view, and to keep the 
mind from sadness and despair. 



THE MISERY OF FORSAKING GOD. 107 

All these things — differing as they do in regard to their 
worth or worthlessness ; their dignity or meanness ; their 
purity or their impurity ; and differing in regard to the 
numbers and the ranks of those who pursue them, yet 
agree in two things : (1.) All are resorted to in pursuit of 
happiness ; and (2.) all this happiness is pursued by the 
exclusion of God. They are a part of that great system 
which consists in forsaking the fountain of living waters, 
and in hewing out broken cisterns which can hold no 
water. They constitute the great scheme of an alienated 
and a talented world to find enjoyment without God. — 
They exhibit the result of the experiment which has been 
now pursued for about six thousand years, and with a 
talent and zeal worthy of any cause, to see whether the 
happiness lost by the apostasy in Eden can be recovered 
without returning to God : whether the cracked and 
broken cistern can be so repaired and beautified as not to 
make it necessary to come back to the fountain of living 
waters ; and whether the calamities and woes which the 
apostasy from God introduced can be put back without 
the painful necessity of returning to the much-hated God 
from whom the race has revolted. 

It is a very interesting question now, whether the plan 
has been successful ; whether it is wise to pursue it any 
further; or whether the voice of wisdom would not 
prompt man to return to the fountain of living waters. 

II. Our second inquiry, therefore, is, whether the plan 
is successful ? Has it answered the purpose which was 
contemplated ? Can the cistern which man has hewed 
out for himself be made to answer the purpose of the 
fountain of living waters ? 

These are questions, evidently, which are to be settled 
by experience ; and in making the appeal to experience 
there are two enquiries to be answered. The first is, 
what is happiness ? The second, can happiness be found 
in these things ? 

What is happiness ? I shall not go largely into the ex- 
amination of this question, for it is not necessary, and I 
can easily foresee that such an examination would be 
tiresome. There are two or three principles which it is 
important to state in order to a correct answer of the other 
question proposed. Happiness does not consist in mere 



103 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

excitement, or laughter, or exhilaration, or ecstacy. — 
These may be found I admit without difficulty in this 
world— and may be found in abundance. The ball-room ; 
the comedy; the low farce; the intoxicating bowl; the 
place of boisterous amusement will furnish them. But 
there are occasions when " laughter is mad ;" and all this 
merriment and excitement may be attended or followed 
with an undercurrent of sorrow that shall leave the soul 
to grief. In true happiness there must be always found 
certain elements, or certain essential principles, among 
which are the following: (1.) It must be adapted to the 
nature of man, or fitted to his true rank or dignity. It 
would be absurd to suppose that the philosopher could 
find permanent happiness in playing marbles, or an angel 
in blowing of bubbles. These are the amusements of 
children, and should God confine elevated minds to such 
an employment forever it. would be to doom such minds to 
an eternal hell. So it must be with all trifles. They may 
amuse and divert for a little while, but they are not 
adapted to the elevated nature of the soul, and their 
power must fail. (2.) Again, there must be some perma- 
nency — some solid basis on which the superstructure is to 
be reared. Happiness cannot be found in a palace if that 
palace may at any moment fall down ; in a cottage, if the 
wind may at any moment sweep it away ; in an office, if 
at any moment it may be given to another ; in beauty 
that must soon fade ; in health and strength, that must 
soon become feeble ; in a scene of pleasure, if it may soon 
be succeeded by grief. Who would be willing to stake 
his chance of happiness on the permanency of the bright- 
est rainbow, or on the vivid lightning's flash, or on the 
fixedness of the colors of the gorgeous clouds in a sum- 
mer evening ? Yet such a basis would be as secure as 
half the happiness that is sought in the gay world. (3.) 
Again, in true happiness in this world there must be a 
recognition of immortality. This must be, because man 
is so made that he cannot wholly forget it. There is a 
consciousness in us of an immortal nature. There is a 
longing after immortality that will be continually mani- 
festing itself in spite of all that men can do. It will break 
out like sunshine between clouds, and men will feel they 
have souls that can never die j and he who is unwilling 



THE MISERY OF FORSAKING GOD. 109 

to recognize that, can never be permanently happy. 
Nature will be true to herself and to the God that has 
made all things; and there are too many indications 
within us that we are immortal, and too many mementoes 
around us to remind us that we are travellers to a per- 
manent home whatever it may be, to suffer us always to 
forget it. (4.) Once more. True happiness must be of 
such a nature that it will not be materially disturbed by 
the prospect of sickness, the grave, and eternity. These 
subjects are so frequently urged upon us ; they pass along 
before us with such solemn and admonitory aspects ; they 
are liable to come so near to us at any moment, that our 
sources of permanent happiness should be such that the 
mention of the grave would not dry them up ; our joys 
should be such that the word " eternity" would not put 
them all to flight. " My Athenian guest," said Croesus 
to Solon, " the voice of fame speaks loudly of your wis- 
dom. I have heard much of your travels ; you have been 
led by a philosophic spirit to visit a considerable portion 
of the globe. I am here induced to enquire of you what 
man, of all you have beheld, has seemed to you most 
truly happy." After one or two unsatisfactory answers, 
and being pressed still for a reply, Solon said, " I shall not 
be able to give a satisfactory answer to the question you 
propose till I know that your scene of life shall have 
closed with tranquillity. The man of affluence is not in 
fact more happy than the possessor of a bare competency, 
unless in addition to his wealth his end be more fortunate. 
Call no man happy till you know the nature of his death. 
It is the part of wisdom to look to the event of things ; for 
the Deity often overwhelms with misery those who have 
formerly been placed at the summit of felicity." Herod. 
1. 24. 32. Our happiness must not be of such a nature 
as to be disturbed by the recognition of death, and the 
anticipation of a future world. That which is dissipated 
by the mention of the grave — whatever else you may call 
it— ecstasy, hilarity, laughter, merriment, is not happi- 
ness ; that which is put to flight by the word eternity 
cannot be the kind of enjoyment fitted to the nature of 
man. 

You say, perhaps, I have given my own definition of 
the word happiness, and that it will now be easy for me 
10 



HO PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

to show that the happiness which man seeks cannot be 
found away from God. I admit that this is true ; and 
that your notions of happiness may differ materially from 
mine. And yet it seems to me you cannot but admit that 
happiness must embody or admit these elements. It 
must be adapted to our nature. It must have some evi- 
dence of permanency. It must recognize our immortality. 
It must be of such a kind that it will not be disturbed 
by the mention of death and eternity. With these prin- 
ciples before us, let us now inquire whether man has 
found that which he has sought by going away from the 
fountain of living waters ; or whether he has not hewed 
out to himself broken cisterns. 

My appeal is mainly to experience — and here the argu- 
ment need not be long. The experience of the world on 
this point may be divided into two great parts — the re- 
corded and the unrecorded. Which contains the larger 
portion is not material to our inquiry, and either would 
be decisive of the controversy. Of the recorded testimony 
of the world, I appeal to the records made on sick beds, 
and in graves; to the disappointments, and cares, and 
anxieties, evinced all over the world as the result of the 
revolt in Eden, and of wandering away from God. 

Recall for one moment what the forsaking of God 
has done. Whence is sorrow, disappointment, pain, 
death ? The misery of our world all began at that sad 
hour when man ate the fruit of the forbidden tree. — 
What might not this world have been if man had never 
forsaken the fountain of living waters ! The bliss of 
Eden might have been prolonged to the present time, 
and not a tear have been shed, not a sigh heard, not 
a couch spread for the sick and the dying ; and the earth 
would never have opened its bosom to furnish a grave ! 
Every sorrow, every tear, every sad hour among men 
has been caused by the fact that man has forsaken his 
God ; and the woes of the earth are an impressive com- 
mentary on the fact which I am endeavoring to illustrate— 
the evil of forsaking God. 

If I had time I would like to follow out the effect of it 
in a single case. I would show the effect of it from the 
first moment of apostasy, to the last act when the sinner 
attempts to exclude God from the soul on the bed of 



THE MISERY OF FORSAKING GOD. Ill 

death. I would take such a case as that of Cain — the first 
instance, peihaps, of one who forsook the fountain of 
living waters no more to return, and the oldest earthly 
inhabitant now, perhaps, of the world of despair. Nor 
do I know but I might be allowed in doing this to make 
use of a celebrated poem, full of blasphemy, of the name 
" Cain ;" expressive, I doubt not, of the real feelings of 
this early apostate, and so true and graphic because it 
was drawn from the deep fountain of unbelief and blas- 
phemy in the heart of its titled, but miserable author. 
The subject of the poem, and the author of the poem, 
might alike furnish us an illustration of the essential 
misery of the man who has forsaken the fountain of living 
waters; — the one a fugitive, a murderer, a vagabond, in a 
beautiful world fresh from the hand of God; — the other a 
nobleman, an inheritor of a palace — and yet a miserable 
misanthrope — and, like Cain, an unhappy wanderer from 
land to land. 

But why look to Cain, or to the not inappropriate his- 
torian of his blasphemies ? Look at our world at large — 
a dying world — full of sadness and wo. Look at the bold 
blasphemer — who is yet, if ever, for the first moment to 
know peace. Look at the infidel, the sceptic — without a 
God, without a Saviour, whose hope is chance, whose 
peace is the troubled sea. Look at the convicted sinner — 
over whose head the thunder of justice rolls, and at whose 
feet the lightnings of vengeance play because he has for- 
saken his God. Look into your own heart, to this moment 
devoid of true peace unless you are a renewed and par- 
doned man. Look at the death-bed of a sinner; read in 
some moment of leisure the account of the dying moments 
of Voltaire, D'Alembert, or Robespierre — and you will 
neither need nor ask any further illustration of the misery 
of forsaking God. 

Again, for an important record of the capability of this 
world to furnish the happiness which man desires, I 
refer to the book of Ecclesiastes. Never had man more 
ample opportunities of finding happiness in all that this 
world can bestow than Solomon had. With abundant 
wealth ; with all the means of luxury which his age and 
land, and a somewhat extended foreign commerce could 
furnish ; with peace at home and abroad ; he early forgot 



IIS PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

the counsel oi a pious father, and forsook his father's God. 
At the close of a life over which he had much occasion to 
mourn, he is believed to have written the book of Eccle- 
siaStes, as an expression of his sense of the power of this 
world to furnish happiness. " I said in mine heart I will 
prove thee with mirth; therefore, enjoy pleasure. I sought 
in mine heart to give myself unto wine, and to lay hold 
on folly till I might see what was that good for the sons 
of men, which they should do under the heaven all the 
days of their life, "i made me great works ; I builded me 
houses ; I planted me vineyards ; I made me gardens and 
orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kinds of fruits. 
I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar trea- 
sure of kings and of the provinces : I gat me men-singers 
and women-singers, and the delights of the sons of men, 
as musical instruments, and that of all sorts. And what- 
soever mine eyes desired I kept not from them, I with- 
held not my heart from any joy. Then I looked on all 
the works that my hands had wrought, and behold all 
was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no 
profit under the sun " " Vanity of vanities, all is va- 
nity," was the result of perhaps the largest and the 
best conducted experiment of the kind ever undertaken 
by man. At the close of a dissatisfied life we may trust 
this illustrious wanderer from God returned to the foun- 
tain of living waters, and this instructive record he has 
left to admonish all those who would tread in his foot- 
steps, that however far they may go, and however they 
may vary the experiment, they will come to the same 
result. 

" I now read Solomon," said Lord Chesterfield when 
sixty-six years of age, and near the close of his unenviable 
life, "with a sort of sympathetic feeling. I have been as 
wicked and vain, though not as wise as he ; but am now at 
last wise enough to feel and attest the truth of his reflec- 
tions, that all is vanity and vexation of spirit. This truth 
is never sufficiently discovered or felt by mere speculation ; 
experience is necessary for conviction,' though perhaps at 
the expense of some morality." 

There is still one other part of the recorded experience 
of mankind in regard to the insufficiency of the substitute 
that has been adopted to give happiness. I allude to the 



THE MISERY OF FORSAKING GOD. 113 

experience of the penitent and the Christian world. 
Every man who comes back to God, like the Prodigal 
Son returning to his father's house, comes with this as an 
important part of his testimony, that in the efforts which 
he has made to find happiness he has been disappointed, 
and he now comes back to the fountain of living waters. 
Nor is the number few, nor is their testimony without 
value. Many hundreds of millions on earth and in hea- 
ven now constitute the entire church which has been re- 
deemed, and all come with the same language as to the 
power of the world to furnish enjoyment. They have 
turned away from the broken cisterns and have come 
back to the fountain of living waters. And who are they ? 
The poor ; the ignorant ; the needy ; the down-trodden 
you say ; — they who have had no means of enjoying the 
world, or of making a full experiment there. I admit it 
to a great extent — perhaps to all the extent you wish — 
and would then say in regard to them that it is no mean 
honor for Christianity to have given to the poor, and the 
wretched, and the comfortless, peace and joy. But who 
have come with them to the cross ? I see among them 
men with crowned heads laying the diadem at the feet of 
the Redeemer, and exchanging their princely robes for 
the garments of salvation. I see men coming from the 
halls of splendor and seeking for happiness in the religion 
of the Saviour. I see them come from the circles of the 
great, and the gay, and the rich, from the splendid party, 
the ball-room, and the. theatre, and confessing that the 
happiness which they sought was not to be obtained 
there, and seeking it now in God. Satisfied now that the 
world cannot meet the desires of the immortal mind, they 
come back to their Maker, and find permanent bliss in the 
Christian hope of immortality. A living poet has beau- 
tifully expressed the feelings of them all, as they ap- 
proach the church, the altar, the cross. 

People of the living God, 

I have sought the world around, 
Paths of sin and sorrow trod, 

Peace and comfort nowhere found : 
Now to you my spirit turns, 

Turns, a fugitive unblest ; 
Brethren, where your altar burns, 

O receive me unto rest ! 
10* 



Hi PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

Lonely I no longer roam, 

Like the cloud, the wind, the wave ; 
Where you dwell shall be my home, 

Where you die shall be my grave; 
Mine the God whom you adore — 

Your Redeemer shall be mine ; 
Earth can fill my heart no more, 

Every idol I resign. Montgomery, 

And what has been the result ? Have the returning 
wanderers been satisfied ? Have they found that which 
they sought, in the fountain of living waters ? Hear one 
of them speak who gives utterance to the sentiments of 
them all. " As the hart panteth after the water brooks 
so panteth my soul after thee, God, my soul thirsteth 
for God, for the living God." " Whom have I in heaven 
but thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire beside 
thee. My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the 
strength of my heart, and my portion forever." " As for 
me, I will behold thy face in righteousness : I shall be 
satisfied when I awake in thy likeness." God, to such a 
man, becomes the portion of the soul. In his existence, 
perfections, government, plans, works ; in his promises, 
and in his communications to the soul that loves him, and 
in the hope of dwelling with him, the weary heart finds 
peace, and the burdened spirit rest. From the fountain 
of living waters the returning wanderer drinks and thirsts 
no more. It is pure, elevating, inexhaustible. Like a 
perennial fountain it fails not by years, it is not exhausted 
by the numbers that partake of it, It does not tire in the 
enjoyment ; it does not leave the soul in sickness ; it does 
not forsake it in death. That happiness goes with us to 
all lands and to all worlds, and becomes brighter and 
purer as earthly joys fade away and as the hour ap- 
proaches when we must leave the world. None have 
come to God and been disappointed ; none who have truly 
tasted his love have had again a supreme relish for the 
joys of sense and of sin. 

I said that a part of the experience of this world in re- 
ference to the happiness which is sought away from God, 
is unrecorded. I refer to that as yet unwritten volume 
where would be recorded all the sad disappointments, the 
cares, the anxieties, and the sorrows of 'those who are 
seeking happiness in the world. I mean the corroding 



THE MISERY OF FORSAKING GOD. 115 

envy, and jealousy, and chagrin, and inward vexation 
which may enter the most splendid circle, and which may 
live there despite all that is gay and winning. In that 
brilliant world all may seem to be smiles and blandish- 
ments ; on the pillow where the aching head shall rest, 
the eyes may give vent to tears at disappointment, or the 
heart be swollen by envy and chagrin, for which tears 
would afford no relief. Madame Malibran, the most ce- 
lebrated opera singer of her age, returning home from a 
grand aristocratic party, where all had striven to over- 
whelm her with admiration, burst into tears, knowing 
that after all she was " a mere opera-singer" Alexan- 
der wept on the throne of the world. Charles V. and 
Dioclesian descended from the throne to seek that happi- 
ness in the vale of private life, which could never be 
found in the robes of royalty. Goethe, the celebrated 
German author, said of himself in advanced age, " They 
have called me a child of fortune, nor have I any 
wish to complain of the course of my life. Yet it has 
been nothing but labor and sorrow, and I may truly say 
that in seventy-five years, I have not had four weeks of 
true comfort. It was the constant rolling of a stone that 
was always to be lifted anew." Who shall record the 
disappointment of those who seek wealth as their portion ? 
Who shall gather up and write down the names of the 
young men — numerous as mighty armies — who have 
sought fame, and been disappointed? Who shall give 
utterance to the unrecorded sighs that bespoke the fail- 
ures in the pursuit of happiness in the gay assembly? — 
The most instructive part of the history of our world is 
unwritten — at least is not written among mortals. It is 
recorded in the book that preserves the memory of human 
deeds with reference to the judgment, and will be deve- 
loped only on the final trial. It is the record of number- 
less individual failures and disappointments; the total 
history of that which makes up the vast experiment in 
our world to find enjoyment without the friendship of the 
Most High ; the record of what has resulted to men for 
having forsaken the fountain of living waters, and for 
having hewed out to themselves cisterns, broken cisterns 
that can hold no water. 

Wandering sinner, permit me to say to you in conclu- 



116 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

sion, you can never be happy without God. You are 
destined to be a miserable man while you wander away 
from him — as the Prodigal Son was wretched who had 
left his lather's home. Nor wealth, nor books, nor busi- 
ness, nor games, nor the dance, nor eating, nor drinking, 
nor a splendid dwelling, nor a brilliant reputation, nor all 
that you can do to secure a grateful remembrance after 
you are dead, can be a substitute for the happiness that 
is to be found in God. You maybe false to your Maker, 
but the world will be true to the God that made it. It 
will not impart happiness except when he bids it. True 
is that world to its God — the earth, the air, the sea, the 
silver, and the gold. Not one of them will give peace 
except when he commands, and all of them he can make 
a curse to your soul. There is no substitute for the bliss 
which he alone can give ; and though you may pervert 
your own powers, yet you can never so torture and per- 
vert the works of the Almighty as to make them confer 
permanent enjoyment except when he commands. 

Wandering sinner, learn from our subject the benevo- 
lent design of the plan of redemption. It is to bring back 
an alienated and wretched race to the fountain of living 
waters. It comes to us on the presumption that man must 
be miserable as long as he continues to wander away 
from his Maker. From the broken cistern which can hold 
no water, it would re-conduct the race back to God, and 
restore the bliss of Eden. happy if man had never wan- 
dered away, and happy still if he would return. Not one 
favor would be denied by him who has had so just cause 
to be offended; not one frown would the sinner find on 
the brow of the Almighty ; not one expression of kind- 
ness would be withheld if he would return. The same 
heaven might be his abode as if he had never sinned, 
and the bliss of even God's eternal favor may be height- 
ened to the returning sinner by all there is in thank- 
fulness for redemption, and in returning joy after manv 
sorrows. 

Wandering sinner, I call on you to return to your long 
forgotten God-the fountain of living waters. In view 
of the experience of the world; in view of its recorded 
woes in every face of care, in every sick bed, in every 
grave, as the result of wandering away from God; and in 



THE MISERY OF FORSAKING GOD. 117 

view of the unrecorded ills of forsaking him, I call on you 
to come back. Sufficient has been the sad experience of 
the world to satisfy you that in those wanderings happi- 
ness never can be found. Let the experience of the 
world — dear bought in millions of instances — lead you to 
return. Come back, unhappy wanderer, come back: 
come to the ever-living fountain of bliss ; come and par- 
take of the happiness that never deceives, and that never 
fails. From the parched and desolate land where you 
have gone, come back to the fountain of living waters. 
Yes, come to the fountain of living waters ; for the Spirit 
and the bride say come, and whosoever will let him take 
the water of life freely. 



SERMON VIII. 

GOD IS WORTHY OF CONFIDE:N~CE. 
Job xxii. 21. Acquaint now thyself with him, and be at peace. 

That is, with God. The case to which the text refers 
was this. Eliphaz — who addresses these words to Job — 
supposed that he was wholly a stranger to the true God ; 
that he had altogether erroneous views of his govern- 
ment; that he regarded him as harsh and severe in his 
administration, and as unworthy of confidence. In his 
sufferings, Job had at some times indulged in remarks of 
considerable severity on the divine dealings. This was 
by no means the prevailing character of the man ; but it 
was so interpreted by his friends, and Eliphaz now de- 
signs to assure him that he could never find peace until 
he should become more acquainted with the divine cha- 
racter, and should feel that God was worthy of confi- 
dence. He proceeds, therefore, in a most beautiful manner 
to exhort him to be reconciled to God, and portrays the 
benefits which would result from such reconciliation. 
The meaning is, < Become truly acquainted with the 
character and government of God. You have now no 
just views of him. You regard him as harsh, severe, 
tyrannical. You murmur, and complain, and are wretch- 
ed. Estranged from him, you must be miserable. But 
it is not too late to repent and return to him ; and in so 
doing you will find peace.' Eliphaz— however impro- 
perly he applied this to Job— has here stated a doctrine 
which has been confirmed by all the subsequent revela- 
tions in the Bible, and by all experience, that happiness 
follows reconciliation with God, and that true peace is 
found only there. This doctrine must have been under- 
stood as early as religion was known after the fall. Man 
became alienated from God by the apostasv. and conse- 
quently miserable; and peace was to be 'found again 
only by reconciliation with him. 

There are two great difficulties in the minds of men. 
ine one is, they have no just views of the character and 



GOD IS WORTHY OF CONFIDENCE. 119 

government of God ; and the second is, if his true cha- 
racter is made known to them, they have no pleasure in 
it — no confidence in it. Both these difficulties must be 
removed before man can be reconciled to his Maker. No 

j small part of the difficulty will be removed if we can 
show him that the character of God is such as to deserve 
his confidence. To that task I now proceed, and shall 

i arrange my thoughts under three heads : — 

I. The liability to error on our part in judging of the 

: character and government of God ; 

| II. The real difficulties in the case ; and 

III. The evidence that he is worthy of our confidence. 
I would not attempt an argument of this nature, were 
it not that I believe that the great difficulty with men is, 
that they have no confidence in God. This is the source 
of all our woes. Man does not believe that the God of 
the Bible is worthy to be the Sovereign of the universe ; 
that his government is equal ; and that the terms of his 
favors are the best that could be. He confides in his own 
understanding rather than in God ; forms his own plan 
of religion rather than embrace the one which God has 
revealed ; and relies on his own merits for salvation ra- 
ther than on the merits of him whom God has sent. He 
goes not to him in perplexity ; asks not his support in 
sickness ; relies not on him in the hour of death. The 
great evil in this world is a want of confidence in God; 
— a want of confidence producing the same disasters 
there which it does in a commercial community, and in 
the relations of domestic life. The great thing needful 
to make this a happy world is to restore confidence in 
the Creator — confidence, the great restorer of happiness 
every where. 

Now, men can never be reconciled to God unless this 
confidence shall be restored. You and your neighbor 
are at variance. The dispute has been bitter and long. 
There has been a misunderstanding, and dissatisfaction, 
and a lawsuit, and a long strife resulting in a confirmed 
alienation. Now, suppose, in this difficulty, you are 
wholly right, and your neighbor wholly wrong. You 
have really done him no injury. You have not been un- 
willing to be on terms of friendship with him. But a 
long train of circumstances,, which you could not have 



1-20 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

well controlled, has operated to make him misunderstand 
your character, or suspect your motives. Evil minded 
men have for their own ends misrepresented you. They 
have reported to him things which you have not said, 
and they have magnified trifles until they seem to be 
mountains. Affairs have come to such a state, that he 
lias bo confidence in you, and believes your character to 
be wholly unworthy of respect. Now what is to be done 
in the case to bring about reconciliation ? Not that you 
are to change your character. Not that you are to make 
acknowledgments where no wrong has been done. It 
is to restore to his mind just confidence in yourself — 
to explain matters ; to show him what you are ; to undo 
the evils which busy-bodies have done in giving him a 
wrong impression of you ; — and if, back of all this, he 
has had hard thoughts of you without the show of rea- 
son, and simply because he does not like a character of 
honesty and truth, he is to lay all that aside. Then peace 
would be restored. This is what is to be done in reli- 
gion. It is to convince men that God is worthy of con- 
fidence ; — and that all that has been said by infidels, and 
sceptics, and scoffers against him, is unjust and wrong ; 
and then, if back of all these false representations of the 
character of God, you have been cherishing any feelings 
hostile to his real character, to entreat you to lay them 
aside. This would be reconciliation. — And why should 
a man wish to cherish any hard thoughts of God without 
the shadow of reason — hating him from the pure love 

OF HATING HIM ? 

In the case of the two individuals referred to, it will 
easily be seen that the one who supposed he was injured, 
would be liable to form very erroneous estimates of the 
character of the other. A man is not in very favorable 
circumstances for estimating character when he is en- 
gaged in a quarrel, nor is he then verv likely to do jus- 
tice to the motives and the actions of 'his neighbor. A 
thousand things are concerned in forming our judgments, 
against which we should, in such circumstances, guard 
ourselves. Now, how is it in our estimate of the cha- 
racter of God ? Are we in no danger of being influenced 
by improper feelings ? This is the point before us. It 
does not require long consideration, and I shall therefore 



GOD IS WORTHY OF CONFIDENCE. 121 

just refer to four sources of danger on this point which I 
think any careful observer will find in his own mind. 

(1.) The first is, that we are in danger of being go- 
verned in our views of God by mere feeling, rather than 
by sober judgment and calm investigation. We must 
all have been sensible of this in our differences with 
others, and cannot have forgotten how our feelings mag- 
nified trifles, refused explanations, imputed wrong mo- 
tives, and gave a coloring to the whole transaction. We 
can remember how little weight at that time the declara- 
tion of the man himself from whom we were estranged, 
had on our mind, and how little credit we gave to what 
we deemed the partial and one-sided representations of 
his friends. There is danger that the same thing will 
happen in regard to God. The views of most men on 
the subject of religion are drawn from their feelings. 
How few are they who sit down to a calm investigation 
to ascertain what in fact is the character and government 
of God ! How few of those who speculatively profess to 
believe the Bible, sit down patiently to ascertain what it 
teaches on that point ! How many there are who are 
drawn along by their own reflections and feelings into 
the views which they now entertain of God, or who have 
been led to form their present views by a remark of some 
man who is an infidel or a scoffer ! 

(2.) A second source of liability to error is, that we 
are often in circumstances where we are in danger of 
cherishing hard thoughts of God. He takes away our 
property, or our health, or our friends ; he frustrates our 
plans, hedges up our way, throws embarrassments in our 
course, and does this, so far as we can see, without rea- 
son or necessity. Now, no man is in the best situation 
to judge candidly, or to form a favorable opinion of the 
divine character, in such circumstances, The tendency 
is to make us feel that his government is severe and arbi- 
trary. Suppose a case between two neighbors where a 
difference existed. Would you be in a situation to judge 
favorably of the character of your neighbor, should he 
be doing constantly what you thought to be injury to 
you without reason ? I know this case is not quite paral- 
lel, but it may illustrate what I mean. This was the 
case with Job. He had suffered much ; and many of his 
11 



122 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

remarks— full of complaint and murmuring— show the 
effect of this condition on his mind in unfitting him to 
come to such conclusions as should lead him to confide 
in God. 

(3.) A third source of liability to error in judging of 
the character of God is, that we always regard ourselves 
as the aggrieved and injured party. We do not allow 
ourselves to suppose it possible that God should be right 
and we wrong; but whatever injury is done, we allow 
ourselves to suppose has been done by him. If God 
treats us as if we were great sinners, we do not allow 
ourselves for a moment to suppose that we are such, but 
instantly revert to our ideas of our own morality and in- 
tegrity ; if he threatens to punish us forever in hell, we 
do not allow ourselves for a moment to suppose that we 
deserve such a treatment, but regard it at once as proof 
that he is arbitrary and stern ; and while this is the case, 
how is it possible for. a man to put confidence in God, or 
to feel that he ought to be reconciled to him ? His oppo- 
sition he regards as in no small degree meritorious ; and 
he feels that he would be wanting in self-respect to cherish 
any other views of his Maker than he actually does. 

(4.) A fourth source of liability to error, or to a want 
of confidence in God, lies back of all this. It is not 
merely that we do not understand his true character, but 
it is that we are not pleased with that character when it 
is understood. We have by nature no pleasure in God. 
He is too holy, too just, too pure, too true, to satisfy 
creatures such as we are ; and there is no fact better es- 
tablished in the history of man, account for it as you 
may, and draw what inferences from it you choose, than 
that man by nature has a strong opposition to the charac- 
ter of God, even when that character is understood. He 
does not like to retain him in his knowledge. He loves 
sin too much, and hates restraint, and desires his own 
gratification, and has no sympathy with the divine per- 
fections and attributes. Now, with this state of mind, 
he looks on God and all that he does, through a distorted 
medium, and is constantly seeking some ground of accu- 
sation ; something that shall to him answer the purpose 
of self-defence. 

These are some of the liabilities to error in judging of 



GOD IS WORTHY OF CONFIDENCE. 123 

the divine character, and it is to be feared that the views 
which not a few have of God, have been formed under 
some such feelings as these. It is evident, however, at a 
glance, that all the views of the divine character which 
are formed under influences like these are likely to be 
wrong, and should constitute no real difficulty in the 
question whether we shall put confidence in him. I pro- 
ceed, therefore, 

II. To the second general point of enquiry — the real 
difficulties in the case. I mean where a man has no pre- 
judice ; no embittered feeling ; no cherished opposition : 
where he is not suffering under any ill in such a way as 
to sour his mind or pervert his understanding, and where 
he would wish to see such evidence that he may put un- 
wavering confidence in God. 

I think it is to be admitted that such a man may have 
great difficulties. There are many things which he can- 
not understand. There are many things which he can- 
not reconcile with such a view. Briefly, for this is a 
point on which we ought not long to dwell, such a man 
will advert to such facts as the following, viz : 

That sin should have been allowed to come into the 
system formed by a holy God. That since he had power 
to create or not, as he chose, and since worlds have been 
made that were holy, and are still holy, that all should 
not have been made so. That misery has come into the 
universe, and that death, with many forms of wo, has 
been commissioned to cut down one whole race, and that, 
in doing it, the whole earth is strewed with hospitals, 
and sick-beds, and graves. That the immortal mind 
should be allowed to jeopard its infinite welfare, and 
that trifles should be allowed to draw it away from 
God, and virtue, and heaven. That any should suffer 
forever — lingering on in hopeless despair, and rolling 
amidst infinite torments without the possibility of alle- 
viation, and without end. That since God can save 
men, and will save a part, he has not purposed to 
save all ; that on the supposition that the atonement is 
ample, and that the blood of Christ can cleanse from all 
and every sin, it is not in fact applied to all. That, in a 
word, a God who claims to be worthy of the confidence 
of the universe, and to be a being of infinite benevo- 



12 J PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

lniee, should make such a world as this— full of sinners 
ami sufferers; and that when an atonement, had been 
made, he did not save all the race, and put an end to sin 
and wo forever. 

These, and kindred difficulties, meet the mind when 
we think on this great subject; and they meet us when 
we endeavor to urge our fellow-sinners to be reconciled 
to God, and to put confidence in him. On this ground 
they hesitate. These are real, not imaginary difficulties. 
They are probably felt by eveiy mind that ever reflected 
on the subject — and they are unexplained, unmitigated, 
imremoved. I confess, for one, that I feel them, and feel 
them more sensibly and powerfully the more I look at 
them, and the longer I live. I do not understand these 
facts ; and I make no advances towards understanding 
them. I do not know that I have a ray of light on this 
subject which I had not when the subject first flashed 
across my soul. I have read, to some extent, what wise 
and good men have written. I have looked at their va- 
rious theories and explanations. I have endeavored to 
weigh their arguments — for my whole soul pants for 
light and relief on these questions. But I get neither ; 
and in the distress and anguish of my own spirit, I con- 
fess that I see no light whatever. I see not one ray to 
disclose to me the reason why sin came into the world ; 
why the earth is strewed with the dying and the dead, 
and why man must suffer to all eternity. I have never 
seen a particle of light thrown on these subjects that 
has given a moment's ease to my tortured mind ; nor 
have I an explanation to offer, or a thought to sug- 
gest, which would be a relief to you. I trust other 
men— as they profess to do — understand this better than 
I do, and that they have not the anguish of spirit which 
I have ; but I confess, when I look on a world of sinners 
and of sufferers ; upon death-beds and grave-yards ; upon 
the world of wo filled with hosts to suffer forever ; — 
when I see my friends, my parents, my family, my peo- 
ple, my fellow-citizens— when I look upon a whole race, 
all involved in this sin and danger, and when I see the 
great mass of them wholly unconcerned, and when I feel 
that God only can save them and yet that he does not 



GOD IS WORTHY OF CO^'FIDE^-CE. 125 

do it, I am struck dumb. It is all dark — dark — dark to 
my soul — and I cannot disguise it. 

Yet even here, in the midst of this gloom, I cast about 
my eyes to see if I can find no evidence that God is 
worthy of my confidence ; no evidence that though "clouds 
and darkness are round about him, righteousness and 
judgment are the habitation of his throne." Is there no- 
thing on which my soul may rest, and of which I may 
speak to my fellow-men, when their minds are involved 
in the same perplexity ? And when I come to them as 
the ambassador of God, and ask them to be reconciled, 
is there nothing which I can say to convince them that 
God is worthy of that confidence, and to satisfy them 
that in all this gloom they may repose on their Creator ? 
I have found for myself a rock in this heaving ocean ; a 
star on which the eye may be fixed in the dark night. I 
proceed, 

III. In the third place to state, in the briefest manner 
possible, the process of my own reflections on this point, 
or the reasons why confidence should be placed in him, 
and why men should be exhorted to become acquainted 
with him, and be at peace. 

My faith rests mainly on God's own word ; on the 
testimony of himself in regard to his real character and 
plans ; on the assurances which I find there, that, not- 
withstanding all the difficulties in the case, he is holy, 
true, just, good, and worthy of universal love and confi- 
dence. It is the assurance of him who knows his own 
character, and who declares most solemnly that all that he 
does is consistent with the rules of eternal equity and right. 
He has given what I believe to be a revelation of his 
character, and has made such declarations respecting it 
as to claim the confidence of mankind. Here my mind 
rests. Conscious of my liability to err; knowing how 
short-sighted I am ; feeling that man must be incompe- 
tent to sit in judgment on the government and plans of 
God ; and knowing that there may be developments yet 
that shall make all that is now dark, clear ; all that is ob- 
scure, light, I put my trust in his assurances, and the 
mind finds repose. 

But I find also in his government, as it is actually ad- 
ministered, not a little to confirm this confidence, and ta. 
11* 



126 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

calm the distresses of the soul ; not a little that I think 
may be so stated as to show to men that he is worthy of 
their confidence. I shall state some of these things now, 
in the conclusion of this discourse. It can be merely, 
however, to glance at thoughts which should be expand- 
ed to much greater length. They are such as these : — 

(1.) The government of God is one of law — always 
presumptive proof that a government is worthy of con- 
fidence. It is not a government of mere will, or caprice ; 
not a government of passion, and therefore not one of 
arbitrary tyranny. Where there is law which is known, 
and which is rigidly adhered to, there may be confidence. 
It shows that the sovereign has confidence himself in his 
own principles ; that he is willing that they should be 
known ; that he does not mean to be governed by ca- 
price. He publishes his principles of administration, and 
submits them to the world ; and in such a fact there is 
proof that there is stability. A mob is governed by no 
law ; a tyrant is controlled by no principle but his will ; 
or if laws are proclaimed, they are proclaimed only to be 
set aside by caprice. But it is not so with God. His is 
a government of law, and has been from the beginning. 
We know what he requires ; we know what he will do 
in given circumstances. Those laws are not set aside 
by will ; they are not disregarded by caprice or passion. 
In such a government there is presumptive ground, at 
least, for confidence. 

(2.) That government is stable and firm. What it is 
in one place it is in another. What he requires of one 
he requires of all ; what he forbids in one place he does 
every where. What he prohibits in heaven, he does on 
earth and in hell ; what he approves in heaven, he ap- 
proves in all worlds. What in one generation he ap- 
proves or forbids, he approves or forbids in all ; what in 
one complexion or climate, he does every where. Virtue 
that he rewards in one age, he rewards in all ; and vice 
that he punishes in one clime, he punishes every where. 
The deed that excites his displeasure beneath rags, ex- 
cites his displeasure beneath the purple ; and the victim 
that he smiles upon on the throne, pleases him not less in 
the cottage. The light which comes to our eye from the 
sun, is governed by the same laws as the light which is 



GOD IS WORTHY OF CONFIDENCE. 127 

borne from the remotest star ; and the same laws apply to 
water on the rose-bud and in the dew-drop which control 
it in the deep ocean. We know, therefore, what to ex- 
pect. We see a government that is settled and firm ; and 
such a government has at least some of the elements to 
produce confidence. 

(3.) All the operations of his government, and all his 
laws, tend to promote the welfare of his subjects. None 
are originally designed to produce misery ; none do pro- 
duce misery except when violated. There are, for ex- 
ample, certain laws pertaining to health. They require 
temperance, purity, industry, absence from exciting and 
violent passions. All these laws tend to the welfare of 
the individual, and if obeyed, injure no one. There are 
certain laws pertaining to the acquisition of property. 
These laws, if obeyed, injure no one, but would promote 
the welfare of all. These are laws requiring truth, ho- 
nesty, temperance, chastity, love, kindness, charity. None 
are injured by their observance. None ever have been. 
None ever will be. It is a matter of the clearest demon- 
stration, that if all those laws had been observed in the 
exact sense of their requirements from the creation of the 
universe, no one would have been injured by them ; and 
you cannot find one of the laws of his kingdom whose 
observance would not have been attended with benefit, 
or where its violation has not been an injury sooner or 
later. This is so clear that it needs no argument ; and is 
not such a government worthy of confidence ? Has it not 
a claim on the love and obedience of those who are its 
subjects ? To see the full force of this, you have only to 
remember that it was in the power of God to have made 
laws directly the reverse, and to have so ordained them 
that the observance of each one would have been fol- 
lowed with a sigh or a groan. When I suffer, therefore, 
and when, under the influence of suffering, I am disposed 
to complain of God, let me remember that that suffering 
is somehow connected with the violation of law, and that 
the Creator has ordained no law, in the exact observ- 
ance of which such misery would have followed. In 
such a God, and in such a government, can we see no 
reasons for confidence ? 

(4.) I look a step farther. I see a great number of 



12S PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

arrangements designed to meet the evils which have in 
fact grown up in the system — evils in all cases the result 
of some violated law. I know the great difficulty lies 
just here, and you will ask me why those evils were 
allowed to come into the system ? Why were they not 
prevented ? This is the gordion knot which we can neither 
cut nor untie. I answer frankly that I do not know. I 
have not one ray of light to shed here. I am involved 
in deep midnight, as I believe all mankind are ; and I 
see not that one explanation has ever been offered that 
has helped the matter in the least. But when the evil 
has entered the system, what is the conduct of the sove- 
reign then ? Has he suffered it to go on unheeded, unre- 
buked, and with no effort to arrest it? Are there no 
devices, no contrivances to stay the evil, and ultimately 
to remove it ? If the original law were good, he would be 
under no obligation to interpose to arrest the evil resulting 
from its violation ; but if he did interpose, it would be so 
much proof standing out by itself that he was worthy the 
confidence of the sufferers. This, then, introduces us into 
a new department of the divine administration, and a 
department that extends as far as we are concerned with 
evil and wo. It is the department of remedies for the 
evils of the violated system ; — a remedial arrangement 
designed to anticipate the coming evil, and to prevent its 
being finally and wholly destructive. Such are the reme- 
dies in the case of disease designed to meet and mitigate 
it, or to remove it ; and such is the great remedy {ox all 
the maladies of men in the atonement. It is almost sus- 
ceptible now of demonstration, and the proof is increasing 
every year— that there is not a form of disease to which 
the human system is liable for which some salutary re- 
medy has not been provided ; it is capable of complete 
demonstration that there is not an evil of any kind which 
sm has introduced, pertaining to the shattered bodv and 
the darkened soul, for which a complete remedv has not 
been provided in the plan of redemption. Wo, in this 
life, may all be mitigated by that plan, and completely 
removed hereafter; the soul, contaminated by sin, may 
become yet wholly pure ; death, the great evil, may be 
wholly destroyed, and the time come when the grave shall 






GOD IS WORTHY OF CONFIDENCE. 129 

not have a tenant, and when the whole earth shall not 
have a tomb. But if this be so, then there is ground of 
confidence in the government of God. To such a being 
I would not be a stranger. 

(5.) We come to a fifth feature of his administration. 
It is, that in that plan of complete recovery, none are ex- 
cluded from his favor who desire his favor. I trust you 
will understand me, and not give me credit for any more 
proof under this point than I deserve. I do not say that 
none are finally excluded from the favor of God. I am 
not able to come to such a conclusion. But this is my 
position, that none are excluded from his favor who de- 
sire his favor ; that none of those who are lost had any 
wish to be his friends. This is the question of most 
thrilling interest to us. It is not whether any have been 
lost, or will be. It is not whether Achan, Judas, Simon 
Magus, Cesar Borgia, Richard III., and Voltaire went to 
heaven. It is whether it can or cannot be demonstrated 
that any have been sent to hell who sincerely desired to 
go to heaven ; whether any have been refused forgive- 
ness of sin who sincerely wished it ; whether any have 
been thrust away from the cross who sincerely asked 
to be saved by the blood of the Redeemer ; whether any 
have truly plead for mercy, and have been denied ; whe- 
ther, in the world of wo, it can ever be said — 

" Here's a soul that perished, suing 
For the boasted Saviour's aid." 

If there have been any such instances, it is right to 
ask where the evidence is to be found. Is it in the 
Bible ? To me it speaks a wholly different language. 
Have those who have gone down to death ever said this ? 
Have Nero and Caligula, Herod and Cesar Borgia, 
Paine and D'Alembert any where left it on record that 
they had sincerely applied for pardon and salvation 
through the atonement and were rejected, and that they 
became monsters in iniquity because God would not save 
them ? Such a record remains yet to be adduced. Go to 
the multitudes of profligates and atheists ; the dissolute 
and the profane ; the unprincipled and the vile, and ask 
them the question, < Are you thus because you went in 
humble prayer before God, and sued for pardon and sal- 



ISO PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

ration in the name of the Redeemer, and were rejected?' 
And what would be the answer ? A volley of curses, 
perhaps, that the question was asked at all ; certainly 
such a spirited response as would effectually clear them 
from the suspicion that they had ever done such a weak 
thing as to pray. The truth is simply this. No means 
wilt induce them to come and ask for pardon. We plead 
with men ; we urge argument and entreaty ; we appeal 
to their consciences, their hopes, their fears ; we point 
them to heaven, and we warn them of hell, but all in 
vain. The great mass press on in the broad road to death, 
and scarce one takes the pains even to turn his head and 
to say — what he feels — that he scorns the idea of seeking 
salvation through a Redeemer. Meantime here and there 
one leaves " the herd," comes back, and asks for mercy ; 
and I appeal to the whole history of the world — from the 
publican and the dying thief to the present time — in proof 
that no one who came in that manner was ever rejected. 
And to the same universal history I appeal with the same 
confidence in proof that no one of the lost ever sincerely 
desired to be saved. But if so, here is at least one ground 
of confidence in God. What could we ask more ? 

(6.) I have one other remark only to make now — for 
the time will not admit of more. It is, that they who 
know most of the character and government of God, and 
who are best qualified to judge, repose most entire con- 
fidence in him. Angels in heaven doubt not his goodness, 
and mercy, and truth, and in their bosoms there dwells 
no distrust. Multitudes on earth who were once alien- 
ated and even miserable because they were alienated ; 
who murmured against God, and Avho, in murmuring, 
found no relief; and who rebelled in the day of adversity, 
and thus plunged themselves into deeper sorrows, have 
returned, and now see that he is worthy of their highest 
trust. Since their return ; since they have become i ac- 
quainted' with him, they have been at peace. They have 
not doubted that he was qualified to rule ; and they have 
committed to him the interest dearest to mortals— the in- 
terest of the immortal soul— and felt that all was safe. 
Prophets and apostles did this ; confessors and martyrs 
did it; and there are tens of thousands now on earth, 
and millions in heaven who have done it. God they have 



GOD IS WORTHY OP CONFIDENCE. 131 

found true to his promises. The afflicted have found 
him a support ; the dying have leaned on his arm ; and 
the living now find him all that the heart desires to find 
in their God. I make use of this as an argument. It is 
the argument of history ; of experience. You will not 
doubt that it is a legitimate argument, for they have had 
all the feelings of distrust, and complaining, and murmur- 
ing, which any can have now, and they have passed 
through ali the circumstances which we can conceive of 
to test our confidence in God. It has been enough. They 
have been upheld, and have found it true that he would 
never leave nor forsake them.' 

My hearers, I have desired so to set this subject before 
you as to describe your state of mind, and to show you 
the propriety of being reconciled to God. I know not 
that I have succeeded in removing one difficulty from the 
mind ; but I would trust that the remarks which I have 
made will not increase the perplexity. To you candidly 
I commit the remarks made ; with God I leave them for 
his blessing. The conclusions which I think we have 
reached, are these — 

(1.) It is a duty to be reconciled to God : — a duty to 
him, for his government is just and right, and opposition 
to him is lurong. 

(2.) It is unwise'to maintain the state of mind in which 
many indulge — chafed and fretted against God, and yet 
using no means to ascertain his true character, and to be 
at peace. 

(3.) The world is doing its Creator great injustice. It 
charges him with cruelty and wrong ; holds him to be 
unworthy of confidence and love ; is filled with hard 
thoughts and fretted feelings ; and is venting complaints 
and murmurings. Thousands murmur in their hearts ; 
thousands complain openly ; thousands curse him on his 
throne. What a world ! 

(4.) It is foolish as well as wicked to resist him. What 
can resistance avail against almighty power ! Justice and 
wisdom, truth and love constrain us, therefore, to say to 
each one of you, * Acquaint now thyself with him, and 
be at peace !' 



SERMON IX. 



REPENTANCE. 



Acts xvii. 30. And the times of this ignorance God winked at, but now j 
conimandeth all men every where to repent. 

This command is as positive as any other in the Bible. 
It is simple and easily understood. From its obligations 
there are no exceptions made in favor of the great, the 
learned, the honored, the gay, the amiable, the moral 
It is addressed to all men, in all climes, and in all ages of 
the world. It comes, therefore, to us, and is laid across 
our path. Repentance is here urged as the command of 
the Almighty. In other places it is declared to be indis- 
pensable to salvation, and we are assured that unless we 
repent we shall perish. 

Yet men have many objections to yielding obedience 
to this command of God. At one time they allege, or they 
would allege if they were to express the real feelings of 
the heart, that they have done nothing which requires 
repentance. They have done no wrong which they have 
not endeavored to repair, and they are conscious of no 
crime. They are not idolators ; they have not been guilty 
of murder, or robbery, or fraud, or falsehood. Their lives 
have been upright, and why should they weep ? At 
another time it is said, that repentance is wholly beyond 
the power of man ; that it is a work which can only be 
performed by the aid of God ; and the expression of won- 
der is scarce withheld that a command should be urged 
to do that which it is known will never be done but by 
divine assistance. At another time it is alleged, that the 
requirement is wholly arbitrary ; that the terms of salva- 
tion have in themselves no intrinsic value or necessity; and 
that it is unreasonable that God should suspend eternal 
salvation on the exercise of repentance and faith. Why, 
it is asked, has he selected from all the exercises of min 
these two as those in connexion with which he will be- 

132 



REPENTANCE. 1 33 

stow salvation ? Why these more than love, or hope, or 
joy, or zeal ? Is there any such intrinsic fitness or value 
in sorrow and in faith in Christianity as to justify this se- 
lection as constituting the only ground of salvation ? And 
why in this arrangement has he chosen these mere emo- 
tions of the heart in preference to a correct moral cha- 
racter as the conditions of his favor ? Would it not be 
more worthy of God to make eternal life depend on virtue 
and benevolence ; on honesty and truth ; on the faithful 
discharge of our duties in the family and in public life, 
than on regret for the past, and on the mere exercise of 
faith ? And why is it that he requires the man of many 
years and many virtues, and the youth of great amiable- 
ness and purity, to renounce all confidence in these vir- 
tues and all dependence on them, and to approach God 
weeping over the errors of a life ? Can he require feigned 
sorrow ? Can there be virtue in forced and affected 
tears ? Again it is asked, why has God made the path to 
heaven a path of sorrow ? Why must we go with the 
head bowed down with grief? Why has he made the 
road a thorn-hedge, and not planted it with roses ? Are 
there no joyous emotions that might have been made the 
condition of salvation ; nothing that would make the eye 
bright, and the heart cheerful, and the soul glad, that 
might have been selected of at least equal value with 
pensiveness and a heavy heart; with melancholy and 
tears ? 

Such are some of the feelings that spring up in the mind 
when we come to men and urge upon them the duty of 
repentance. My desire is, if possible, to meet these feel- 
ings, and to convince yon that they are unfounded. I 
shall aim to show you that the requisition of repentance 
is not arbitrary, but that it is founded in the nature of 
things, and that a man must repent if he will ever enter 
into the kingdom of God. In doing this, I shall submit to 
your attention a series of observations, which will have 
a direct bearing on the case before us. 

I. In the first place, repentance is a simple operation 
of mind understood by all persons, and in some form 
practised by all. You cannot find a person who at some 
time has not exercised repentance. You cannot find a 
child who needs to be told what is meant by being re- 
13 



134 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

quired to repent when he has done a wrong thing ; and 
in the emotions of a child, when he feels sorrow that 
he has done wrong, and who resolves to make con- 
fession of it and to do so no more, you have the elements 
of all that God requires of man as a condition of salvation. 
You have broken the commands of a father. His law 
was plain ; his will was clear. When the deed is per- 
formed, you reflect on what you have done. You see 
that his command was right ; that you have done wrong 
by breaking his law, and have incurred his just displea- 
sure. He has always treated you kindly ; his commands 
have never been unreasonable; and you cannot justify 
yourself in what you have done. You see that you have 
done wrong. By a law of your nature you feel pain or 
distress that you did the wrong. You resolve that you 
will go and confess it, and that you will do so no more. 
This is repentance ; and this is the whole of it. You have 
a friend. He has a thousand times, and in a thousand 
ways, laid you under obligation. He has helped you in 
pecuniary distress ; shared your losses ; attended you in 
sickness; defended your reputation when attacked. He 
himself, in turn, suffers. Wicked men blacken and defame 
his character, and a cloud rolls upon him and overwhelms 
him. In an evil hour your mind is poisoned, and you 
forget all that he has done for you, and you join in the 
prevalent suspicion and error in regard to him, and give 
increased currency to the slanderous reports. Subsequent- 
ly you reflect that it was all wrong ; that you acted an 
ungrateful part ; that you suffered your mind to be too 
easily influenced to forget your benefactor, and that you 
have done him great and lasting injury. You are pained 
at the heart. You resolve that you will go to him and 
make confession, and that you will implore forgiveness, 
and that you will endeavor as far as possible to undo the 
evil. This is repentance ; and this is all. Let these simple 
elements be transferred to God and to religion, and you 
have all that is included in repentance. Be as honest to- 
wards God as you have been many a time toward a pa- 
rent or a friend, and you will have no difficulty on the 
subject. You will see that it was neither arbitrary nor 
unreasonable. The difficulty is, when you approach reli- 
gion you are determined to find something unintelligible, 



REPENTANCE. 135 

severe, and harsh, and you at once suppose that God in 
his arrangement is arbitrary and unkind. 

I said that repentance was well understood by all per- 
sons, and practised by all. Nothing is more common on 
earth ; — on earth only. The angels in heaven having 
never sinned have nothing of which to repent ; and of 
course it is unknown there. Devils, though having sinned 
long and much, have jet felt no regret at their crime, and 
have never been disposed to go and ask for pardon ; and 
there is no repentance among them. Sinners that descend 
from our world to the world of wo, go beyond the reach 
of mercy and the desire of pardon, and there is no peni- 
tence in hell. But on earth what is more common ? Who 
is there that has not exercised repentance ? Who is there 
that has never felt that he has done wrong, and that has 
resolved that he would do so no more ? No inconsidera- 
ble portion of every man's life is made up of regrets for 
the errors and follies of the past. No small part of the 
sighs and groans of the world are the bitter fruit of mis- 
takes and crimes. No small part of the recollections of an 
old man are made up of remembrances of days of folly 
and of subsequent regret; of the indulgence of appetite 
and passion, and of the bitterly lamented fruits; of wrong 
thoughts, and wrong words, and wrong deeds over which 
he has had abundant leisure to mourn. These feelings 
occur on the remembrance of errors, follies, crimes. They 
invade the mind because we feel that we have done 
wrong, and that we ought to have done differently. They 
are not arbitrary. They are the operations of the regular 
laws of the mind ; and they are operations which a gene- 
rous and noble heart would not wish to check or prevent. 

If such feelings actually occur on the recollection of 
the past, it is natural to ask why we should not expect to 
find them in religion ? We see repentance every where 
else, and manifested in every man's life. We perceive 
regrets at the past starting up in the minds of men of all 
ages and all lands ; and why shall it be regarded as strange 
that it is required in a system of religion designed to recall 
the world from error and from sin ? 

Further; the most deep and pungent feelings which 
men ever have are found in regrets for the crimes of the 
past. The mind no where else knows emotions so over- 



136 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

whelming and so torturing, as in the recollections of past 
guilt. And why, then, should deep emotion be deemed 
strange or unreasonable in religion? Why should it be 
regarded as fanatical that the soul should be burdened 
with a sense of guilt when it comes back to God ? If you 
feel pained when you recollect that you have wounded 
the feelings of a friend ; if your mind is overwhelmed 
when you think of disobedience towards a parent, 
whether now living or dead ; if you are overwhelmed 
when you are made conscious that you have been guilty 
of great ingratitude, I ask why may we not expect that 
there will be deep feeling in the return of a sinner to God ? 
The sins which you have committed against a friend, 
a parent, or an earthly benefactor, are trifles when com- 
pared with the sins which we have committed against 
our heavenly friend, parent, benefactor. David was guilty 
of two of the most aggravated offences which can be com- 
mitted against human laws. That he felt the criminality 
of these offences as committed against man no one can 
doubt ; but great as this consciousness of guilt was when 
regarded as committed against man, it was absorbed 
and lost when he contemplated his offence as committed 
against God. " Against thee, thee only," said he, 
" have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight." Ps. li. 4. 
My wonder is not that men feel deeply when they exer- 
cise true repentance and become Christians, nor is it that 
here and there one is so overwhelmed as to be driven to 
permanent derangement. It is a matter of marvel that 
they feel so little ; and a subject of praise and thanks- 
giving that in nearly every instance the divine mercy in- 
terposes, and the voice of pardon is heard speaking to the 
soul, before the anxious and guilty sinner sinks into 
despair. 

II. My second proposition is, that God may appoint 
his own terms of mercy, and that man has no right to 
complain if he requires him to exercise repentance as a 
condition of salvation. This general proposition is true 
in relation to every thing, that God may appoint his own 
terms on which his favors may be enjoyed, and that man 
has neither the right to dictate nor complain. Health is 
his gift ; and he has the absolute right— a right which he 
is constantly exercising— to state to man on what terms 



REPENTANCE. 137 

it may be enjoyed j and if he does not choose to comply 
with those terms, God will not depart from his settled 
laws to give him health by miracle. Life is his gift, and 
he has a right to say on what terms it shall be enjoyed ; 
property is his gift, and he has a right to say to man how 
it may be possessed. In like manner, pardon is the gift 
of God, and he has a right to say on what terms it may 
be obtained. An offender against law has no right to de- 
mand forgiveness ; nor has he any more right to prescribe 
the terms on which it may be obtained. Heaven is God's 
home ; and he has a right to say to men on what terms 
they may be admitted to live with him. Assuredly men 
cannot claim of God the right to be admitted to heaven, 
and to prescribe to him the terms on which he will receive 
them to favor there. If, therefore, God has declared that 
repentance and faith are the indispensable conditions on 
which man may be admitted to favor and to heaven, no 
one can complain. The only appropriate question to 
ask is, whether in fact he has appointed them as the in- 
dispensable conditions. That settled, every question on 
the subject is at rest. 

If we may illustrate great things by small, and appeal to 
men for the propriety of this to their own doings, I would 
observe that God is dealing with you in this respect just 
as you deal with your fellow-men. You have a house. 
It is your castle ; your home. No one has a right to come 
there without your consent. You will admit no one to 
your dwelling, or to your table, or to intercourse with 
your sons and daughters, who does not choose to comply 
with the reasonable conditions which you may choose to 
have observed — whether they be such merely as society 
has chosen to appoint in general, or such particular con- 
ditions as you may think good order in your house re- 
quires. Why complain of God if he does the same thing ? 
You are a parent. A. child violates your commands. Do 
you not feel that you have a right to prescribe the terms 
on which he may obtain your forgiveness ? Do you not 
feel that pardon is yours, to bestow or withhold as you 
shall choose ? You have a friend ; or there is one who 
was your professed friend. He has greatly wronged you. 
The offence is undeniable ; it is admitted. Do you not 
feel that you have a right to prescribe to him the terms 

12* 



1SS PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

on which he may be admitted to your favor and enjoy 
your friendship again? And if you should require that 
he should express regret, and confess the wrong, and re- 
pair the evil, would you think that he had a right to com- 
plain of you ? And would ppu think it a sufficient answer 
to this if he should say, thai he had no power to do it, or 
that you might have planted the path of return with 
flowers rather than with thorns ? How obvious the an- 
swer that it would be as easy to make the confession, as 
to do the wrong, and that as to the thorns in the case, he 
planted them by his own wrong-doing, and not you. And 
since we every where claim the right to say on what 
terms those who have injured us may again be per- 
mitted to partake of our favors, why should we complain 
of our Maker if the same thing occurs under his govern- 
ment ? 

The proposition, therefore, that God has a right to ap- 
point his own terms of favor cannot be disputed. If re- 
pentance be one of the conditions, he has a right to say 
that this is indispensable to obtaining his favor. You' 
deem it an incumbrance, a clog, a hindrance to your return. 
Bat even if it were so, the question would be whether it 
would not still be wise to accept of salvation cumbered 
with temporary sorrow here in the hope of eternal glory 
hereafter, or whether it would be best to perish forever 
because God had appended such a condition to the offer 
of life. My remarks under this head tend to this, that 
even if the appointment were icholly arbitrary, God has 
a right to make it, and man has no right to complain. 

III. My third proposition is, that when wrong has been 
done among men, the only way to obtain again" the favor 
of those who have been injured is by repentance. No 
man who has done evil in any way can be restored to 
forfeited favor but by just this process of repentance — by 
a process involving all the elements of grief, shame, re- 
morse, reformation, confession, that are demanded in re- 
ligion. Let us recur to some of the former illustrations. 

You are a father. A child does wrong. He violates 
your law; offends you; treats you with disrespect or 
scorn. He goes abroad and represents your government 
at home as severe, and gives himself up' to unbridled dis- 



REPENTANCE. 139 

sipation. Regardless of your commands and of your 
feelings, he becomes the companion of the dissipated and 
the vile ; and with those companions wastes the fruits of 
your labors. Towards that son you cherish still all a 
father's feelings; but I may "~)peal to any such unhappy 
parent to say whether he would admit him to the same 
degree of confidence and favor as before without some 
evidence of repentance. You demand that he should ex- 
press regret for the errors and follies of his life ; you de- 
mand evidence that will be satisfactory to you that he 
will not do the same thing again ; you require proof that 
he will be disposed by a virtuous life to repair as far as 
possible, the injury which he has done you ; and the mo- 
ment you hear him sincerely say, " Father, I have sinned 
against heaven, and before thee, and am not worthy to be 
called thy son," that moment you are ready to go out and 
meet him, and to throw your arms around his neck and to 
forgive him. — You have had a friend. You thought him 
sincere. But he betrayed you ; and in feeling, in property, 
in character you have been made to suffer by him. I ask 
any man whether he can receive such a friend again to 
his bosom, and press him to his heart, without some evi- 
dence of regret at what he has done, and some proof that 
he will not do it again ? You cannot do it. You cannot 
force your nature to do it. The sea might as well break 
over the iron bound shore, or the river flow back and 
again climb up the mountain side where it leaped down 
in cascades, as for you to do it. You will convince your- 
self in some way that he regrets what he has done, and 
that he will not do it again, or you can never receive him 
again with the confidence of a friend. Your nature is as 
firm on this point as the everlasting hills, and is, in this 
respect, but the counter-part and the image of God, who 
does the same thing. — In like manner it is with those who 
have committed offences against a community. Of the 
man who has been guilty of theft, burglary, arson, or 
forgery, and who has been sentenced and punished for 
these offences, the community demand evidence that he 
has repented of the crime, and that he purposes to do so 
no more, before it will admit him again to its favor. If 
you go into his cell and find him alone on his knees be- 



140 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

fore God confessing the sin ; if you see in him the evidence 
of regret and sorrow that it was done ; if you believe that 
the reformation is entire and sincere, the community will 
again receive him to its bosom, and will forgive and 
forget the past, and he may rise to public confidence, 
and even to affluence and honor. But if none of these 
things are seen ; if he spends the years of his sentence 
sullen and hardened, and profane, and without one sigh 
or tear, he is never forgiven. He may have paid the 
penalty of the law, but he is not forgiven ; — and he goes 
forth to meet the frowns of an indignant community, to be 
watched with an eagle eye, and to be excluded all his life 
from the affections and confidence of mankind. Univer- 
sally it is true that where an offence has been committed 
and there is evidence of repentance, the offender may be 
restored to favor ; where there is no regret, shame, the 
curse of man and of his Maker alike rest upon him. 

IV. My fourth proposition is, that in the actual course 
of events under the divine administration, it is only in 
connexion with repentance that forfeited favors can be 
recovered. I do not mean to say that repentance will al- 
ways repair the evil of the past ; that it will restore to a 
man the money which he has squandered by dissipation ; 
that it will recover the health which has been lost by 
vicious indulgence, or that it will recall to life the man 
that has been murdered. But my meaning is, that if a 
man who has done wrong is ever restored in any mea- 
sure to the forfeited favor of God it will be in connec- 
tion with repentance. A process of repentance, similar 
to that required by the Christian religion, is inevitable, 
and unless that exist, the forfeited favor can never be re- 
gained. A man has wasted his health and property by 
intemperance. He was once in comfortable circum- 
stances ; saw around him a happy family ; was respected 
and beloved ; enjoyed health, and was rising to affluence. 
He yielded to temptation, and all is now swept away. — 
Peace has fled from his dwelling, and his wife sits in po- 
verty and in tears, and his children are growing up in 
idleness and vice, and he is fast hastening to a drunkard's 
grave. Is there any way, now, by which health, and 
domestic peace, and property, and respectability may be 
recovered ? There is. But how ? By this course. He 






REPENTANCE. 141 

will reflect on his sin and folly. He will feel deeply- 
pained at the evil he has done. He will lament that 
course of life which has taken comfort and peace from his 
dwelling. He will resolve to forsake the ways of sin, and 
will abandon forever the intoxicating bowl. He will re- 
form his life, and become sober, industrious, and kind — ■ 
and health may again revisit his frame, and peace his 
family, and his farm will again be fenced, and ploughed, 
and sown, and the rich harvest will again wave in the 
summer sun. But this is the very way in which God re- 
quires the sinner to come back to himself. He requires 
him to reflect on the past ; to feel as he ought that he has 
pursued a guilty course ; to break off his transgressions, 
and to lead a different life. Why should it be thought 
more strange in religion than in the actual course of 
events ? 

The same is true of a gambler. He has been led on 
by the arts of temptation till he has lost his all. He had 
received a competence as the heir to a wealthy father. 
Now it is all gone. From one step to another he has 
been drawn into temptation with amazing rapidity, till 
he is now stript of all, and is penniless, and is ready to 
give himself up to despair. Is there any way by which 
he can emerge from this depth of woes, and become a 
man of respectability and property again ? There is 
one, and but one way. It is a straight and a narrow 
path — like that which leads to heaven. It will not be 
found by treading on in the blighted and parched way 
in which he is now going. It will be by the follow- 
ing process. He will reflect on the folly and the guilt of 
his course. He will feel pain and regret at the remem- 
brance of that sad hour when he yielded to temptation. 
He will mourn in the bitterness of his soul over that dark 
day. He will resolve that he will never enter a gambling 
room again, and that he will devote his life to a course of 
steady industry and virtue ; — and the confidence of his 
fellow-men he may regain, and God will bestow on him 
wealth and respectability. But this is substantially the 
way in which a sinner is to return to God. This is re- 
pentance. 

So in respect to indolence, vice, dissipation, crime in all 
forms. If men ever turn back these evils \ if they ever 



I j I PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

arrest this descending curse; if they ever escape from the 
withering and blighting influence which pursues the 
wicked, it must be in connexion with repentance. If 
t lie re is no evidence of repentance and reform, that 
withering and blighting influence will pursue the indivi- 
dual over sea and land, to the end of the world and to the 
end of life. He can never escape the curse of violating 
the laws of heaven until he gives evidence of sincere sor- 
row for what he has done. But the moment that is done, 
the avenger ceases to pursue him ; friends come again 
around him ; and he finds peace in his own bosom, and 
in every man he finds a friend. 

V. The necessity of repentance could not be avoided 
by any arrrangement whatever. It must exist whenever 
there is returning love to God ; and had it not have been 
required in a formal manner as a condition of salvation, 
still it would have been true that no sinner would ever 
have returned from his ways and come back to God, 
without exercising repentance. 

A moment's reflection will satisfy any one of this. The 
law of God requires love to him as to the supreme rule 
of life. That law man has violated ; and the gospel re- 
quiring repentance meets him as a sinner, and requires 
him to return to the love of God. Now no alienated mar 
can come back to this love of God without regret that h« 
wandered away from him. To return to my former illus- 
tration. A child is bound to love his father. He fails t< 
evince the love which he ought to, and becomes disobe 
dient. Can that child be brought back from the state 
of alienation, and have his bosom glow with love, wit! 
no regret that he has not showed that love before 
Can he now look on the excellence of his father's charac 
ter, and the reasonableness of his laws, and feel no regre 
that he has not always loved him, and obeyed him ? Cai 
he look over that long, dark period, which has passed it 
alienation, and feel that he had done no wrong, and ex 
perience no self-condemnation ? It could not be. No 
thus is the human heart made; and he who has eve 
come back from alienation to love has returned with regre 
and tears. 

Love is the grand principle on which God intends t 
bind all worlds in harmony. It is the central virtu 



REPENTANCE. 143 

whose influence is radiated over all others. God might 
have governed the universe by terrors, and by flames, 
and by the dread of stripes, and by chains, and adaman- 
tine walls. But he designed to make love the great prin- 
ciple of his administration every where, and it was 
presumed that this was enough. It is enough. If in a 
family you can secure proper love between a husband and 
wife, parents and children, brothers and sisters, it is 
enough. You may lay aside your rod, and dismiss your 
system of terrors. If in a neighborhood you can secure 
love — the love of one neighbor for another, it is enough. 
There will be no brawls ; no law-suits ; no heart-burnings. 
If in a nation you can secure love it is enough. If there 
is the love of country in every bosom leading all to a rea- 
diness to defend that country's rights ; if there is the love 
of law, and justice ; if there is the love of a people towards 
their rulers, and of rulers for their people, it would be 
enough. You might shut up your prisons, and dismiss 
your judges and juries, for there would be universal har- 
mony. And so among the nations. If there were every 
where the love of God and man ; if there reigned in 
every human bosom the love of a brother and of human 
rights ; you might dismantle your forts, and disband 
your armies, and the sword might be left to rust in the 
scabbard, and the ship of war be left to decay on the 
stocks. In his government, God intends that this princi- 
ple shall have the ascendency and shall rule. It will be 
the same principle in the bosoms of angels and of men. 
It will bind the most lofty spirit of the skies to his throne, 
and the most humble among the saints on earth — like the 
mighty law which binds planets in their orbits, and which 
bids the floating particle of dust to seek the centre. Had 
this love been always shown, there would have been no 
sin, no crime, no war, no death. 

But it has not been shown always on earth. The im- 
penitent sinner has never had the love of God in his 
heart. He has been, and he is, an alienated being. This 
he knows ; and this he feels in that moment when he is 
pondering the question whether he shall return to God. 
Every man knows that he has not loved God as he ought 
to have done, and the impenitent man may see, if he 
will see, that from the first dawn of his being to the 



|44 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

present moment he has not put forth one single expression 
of genuine love to his Maker. Now if this alienated 
being comes back to God, it will be only by repentance. 
He will, he must feel regret at this long and wasted period 
of his life which has been spent in estrangement from 
God. He will look with deep emotion on the many 
mercies which his Maker has conferred on him ; or with 
amazement on the fact that to this moment he has abused 
them all. No man ever yet passed from hatred to love 
without experiencing regret, remorse, and sorrow at his 
former course of life, and without passing through a pro- 
cess similar to that which God requires of the returning 
sinner. And no man ever, did, or can return to God from 
whom he has been alienated without feeling and express- 
ing regret that he has wandered, and without a purpose 
to do so no more. At the remembrance of his sins and 
of the abused mercies of God ; at the view of the goodness 
which has kept him in all his wanderings, and especially 
of the mercy which sought him in the gift of a Saviour, 
and of the death of the Redeemer for these very sins, he 
must feel and weep, and he cannot return without bitter 
regrets that he abused so much love and slighted so much 
mercy. Returning love, and a sense of God's goodness 
will be attended with sorrow of heart that he ever wan- 
dered, and with a full purpose to do so no more : — and 
this is repentance. How could God be willing to admit 
the wanderer to his favor unless he were willing to do as 
much as this ? 

I might add that it would be impossible for a man to 
be happy in heaven unless he had repented of the errors 
and follies of the past. The man who has injured you 
could he be happy in your family unless he had repented 
of the wrong done, and obtained your forgiveness ? Were 
you ever happy in the presence of the man that you had 
wronged until you confessed it and obtained pardon? 
Your whole nature is against such a supposition, and it 
can never be. The deepest misery that we can well imagine 
would be to be doomed to live forever with those whom 
we have wronged ; to feel that they knew it ; to be re- 
minded of it every time we caught their eye, and yet to 
be too proud or wicked to confess it and ask for pardon : 
and how then could an impenitent sinner be happy in the 



REPENTANCE. 145 

presence of a much injured Saviour, and of a God of 
abused mercy forever and ever ? 

In view of the positions which I have endeavored to 
defend in this discourse, I may remark, 

1. That Christianity is not an arbitrary institution. Its 
requirements are founded in the nature of things. It 
would have been impossible to save sinners, or to have 
made them happy, without repentance — and Christianity 
has simply said that. It has appointed nothing arbitrary ; 
nothing unmeaning. It has demanded that which must 
exist ; which does exist in all similar circumstances ; and 
which ivou/d have occurred in the case of every sinner 
coming back to God even if it had not been formally re- 
quired. 

2. Evil is often done by representing the operations of 
the mind in religion as in their nature essentially different 
from mental operations on other subjects. As a mere 
operation of mind, how can repentance in religion differ 
from repentance exercised towards an injured parent or 
friend ? The mental operation is simple and easily un- 
derstood, and all are familiar with it. Who is there here 
who has never repented of any thing that he has done ? 
Who that has not confessed a wrong ? Who that does 
not now feel that he has much to regret in the past, and 
that there is much which he ought to confess ? Be as 
honest toward God as you have been toward a parent, 
lover, or friend, and you would have no difficulty on the 
subject of repentance. It would be easy to be under- 
stood, and your difficulties would all soon vanish. Yet 
when you approach religion, you expect and desire to 
find every thing cold, repulsive, unreal, arbitrary, and 
impossible — and are unwilling to believe that religion is 
the most simple of all things, and that it is in entire ac- 
cordance with all the laws of the human mind. What is 
needful is to bring the whole subject of religion back to 
"the simplicity that is in Christ ;" to take away the 
technicalities of the "schools," and to see that in simpli- 
city it is adapted to children ; in sublimity and power it is 
in accordance with the laws which govern the highest 
intellects on earth or in heaven. 

3. Repentance is not beyond the proper exercise of the 
power of man. Every man practices it. Every child 

13 



140 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

repents. Every one has at different times felt regret at 
something that he has done ; has made confession ; has 
resolved to do so no more; has turned from the evil 
course. This is repentance ; and no one in such a case 
has resorted to any plea that it was impossible or that it 
was unreasonable. It is only in religion that we hear 
that it is unreasonable, and that it is beyond a man's 
power. But why should it be there more than elsewhere ? 
Why easy any where else ; why impossible there ? The 
answer is simple. It is, that men wish to find an excuse 
for not repenting ; and regardless of any reflections on the 
character of their Maker, rather than forsake their sins, 
they charge him with requiring that which is impossible, 
and coolly say that they have no power to obey his com- 
mands. Every where else it is easy in their view to re- 
pent, here they say it is impossible, and is only to be done 
by the Almighty power of God. 

4. It is the sinner who is to repent. It is not God who 
is to repent for him — for God has done no wrong. It is 
not the Saviour who is to repent for him — for he has vio- 
lated no law. It is not the Holy Spirit that is to repent — 
for how can that blessed Agent feel sorrow, and why 
should he ? My impenitent friend, it is your own mind 
that is to repent ; your own heart that is to feel regret ; 
your own feet that are to be turned from the evil way ; 
your own lips that are to make confession. I know that 
if ever done it will be by the aid of God the Holy Ghost; 
but I know also that you are yourself to be the peni- 
tent, and that this is a work that cannot be done by 
another. That very heart that has sinned must feel; 
those very eyes that have looked with delight on forbid- 
den objects must weep ; and those lips that have been 
false, profane, or impure, must make confession. I will 
add here, that God is willing to impart to you all the 
grace which is needful to enable you to repent if you are 
willing, for he has " exalted Christ Jesus to give repent- 
ance and the remission of sins." With his offered and 
promised grace you can never allege before him that re- 
pentance was wholly put beyond your power. 

5. Finally, it is right and proper to call on men to re- 
pent of their sins. If they repent when they have wronged 
a friend, or violated the laws of a parent ; if repentance is 



REPENTANCE. 147 

an operation of mind with which all are familiar ; if it is 
not beyond the proper reach of the human faculties ; and 
if the sinner himself is actually to feel sorrow and make 
confession, and if you have in fact violated the law of 
God, then it is right to call- on you to repent at once. — 
This command, then, I lay across your path to-day, and 
call on you to repent of all your sins, and to make con- 
fession unto God. It is a command reasonable, proper, 
easy, imperative ; — and I end as I began by saying that 
it is as positive as any other in the Bible; that it is simple 
and easily understood ; that it is addressed to all, and that 
there are no exceptions made in favor of the great, the 
learned, the honored, the gay, the amiable, the moral. 
We shall all alike die ; and when we come to die it will 
be one of the sincerest wishes of our souls that we had 
honestly yielded obedience to all the commands of God; 
one of the sincerest wishes of our hearts that we had con- 
fessed and forsaken our sins before we were called to 
stand at the awful bar of our final Judge. 



SERMON X. 

SALVATION EASY. 
Matthew xi. 30. My yoke is easy, and my burden is ligbt. 

All religion, like virtue of all kinds, implies restraint. 
The Saviour did not come to institute a religion that 
would be without law, or that would give unrestrained 
indulgence to the passions. He did not come to esta- 
blish a religion where there would be no burden to be 
borne, no cross to be taken up. He speaks, therefore, 
in the text, of his religion as a 'yoke' — the emblem 
of restraint ; of a ' burden' — the emblem of obligation, 
implying that there were duties to be discharged and con- 
ditions of salvation to be complied with. But he says 
that the one was ' easy/ the other ' light.' Compared 
with the heavy yoke of Jewish rites and ceremonies, 
(Acts xv. 10;) compared with the oppressive burdens of 
the heathen systems of religion every where ; and com- 
pared with the yoke which fashion, and ambition, and 
corrupt passions impose on their votaries every where, 
the yoke which he required his followers to bear was 
easy, and the burden light. It was not a hard thing to 
be a Christian ; it was not difficult to be saved. In illus- 
trating this truth, my object will be, 

I. To show that salvation is easy ; and 

II. To show why it is so. 

I. Salvation is made easy for mankind. 

I know that this proposition is one that will not be con- 
ceded to be true by all men. It stands opposed to many 
feelings of the human heart, as well as to some senti- 
ments maintained by a part of the Christian world. It 
is not introduced here for controversy, nor will my dis- 
cussion of it be pursued for purposes of debate, but with 
reference to some prevalent feelings in the minds of men. 
It is felt by many to whom we preach, that salvation is 
difficult, or wholly impracticable for them. The feeling 
assumes a great variety of forms, for the existence of 
which we have only to appeal to your consciousness. It 

148 



SALVATION EASY. 149 

is felt by some that God has provided no salvation for a 
large part of the human family ; or that the Holy Spirit 
strives with only a part of the race ; or that God is insin- 
cere in his offers of salvation ; or that he has determined 
by unalterable decree those who shall, and those who 
shall not be saved ; or that man has no power to repent 
or believe, and that should he put forth all possible efforts, 
they would be utterly fruitless. At one time an impene- 
trable obscurity seems to rest on the whole subject of 
religion, and the mind of the sinner is in thick darkness ; 
at another he feels that his sins are so strong that he has 
no power to overcome them ; at another that some in- 
visible power thwarts all his efforts and blasts all his 
purposes ; and at another that salvation resembles some 
object in heaven to be brought down like bringing Christ 
again from the skies, or is like crossing the mighty deep 
to seek for it on a pilgrimage in the dreariness of a dis- 
tant land. It is this feeling which I wish to meet in de- 
fence of the proposition derived from our text, that sal- 
vation is easy. There are three considerations which I 
trust will make it clear ; or three sources of argument to 
which I shall refer you. 

(1.) The first is, that such is the express testimony of 
the Bible. To this I appeal as perfectly plain on the 
point, and as meeting all the difficulties which are felt in 
the case. I appeal to the following passage, the very 
design of which is to state this truth with the utmost ex- 
plicitness. " The righteousness which is of faith," or the 
plan of salvation in the gospel, " speaketh in this wise, 
say not in thine heart, who shall ascend into heaven ? 
that is, to bring Christ down from above ; or, who shall 
descend into the deep ? that is, to bring up Christ again 
from the dead. But what saith it ? The word is nigh 
thee, even in thy mouth and in thy heart, that is, the 
word of faith which we preach ; that if thou shalt con- 
fess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in 
thy heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou 
shalt be saved." Rom. x. 6 — 9. The meaning is, the 
Christian religion does not require us to ascend into heaven 
— to perform an impossible work like going up to the 
throne of God, and bringing the Mediator down. It does 
not require us to go into the abyss, the grave, the regions of 
13* 



"150 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

departed souls, and perform a work like raising a man 
from the dead. It demands an easier task — one that lies 
within the proper exercise of human power. It demands, 
says Paul, simply a confession with the mouth of the 
Lord Jesus, and a belief in the heart that God raised him 
from the dead. And is this all, and is it then an erroneous 
inference, that Paul meant to teach that salvation is easy; 
that it demands no impracticable thing, and nothing which 
lies beyond the proper compass of human responsibi- 
lity? 

I appeal, in further confirmation of this position, to 
the following plain declarations of the Bible. " Ho, every 
one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters ; and he that 
hath no money ; come ye, buy and eat ; yea, come, buy 
wine and milk without money, and without price. In- 
cline your ear, and come unto me ; hear, and your soul 
shall live ; and I will make an everlasting covenant with 
you, even the sure mercies of David." Isa. lv. 1. 3. — 
Is it impossible to incline the ear and hear ? To come and 
buy ? — " Behold/' said the Saviour, " I stand at the door 
and knock : if any man will hear my voice, and open 
the door, I will come in to him and sup with him, and he 
with me." Rev. hi. 20. — Is it impossible for a man to 
open his door for a friend, or for a stranger ? " And 
the Spirit and the bride say, come. And let him that 
heareth say, come. And let him that is athirst, come : 
and whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." 
Rev. xxii. 17. — Is it impossible for the thirsty to drink 
at a running fountain ? " Come unto me," said the 
Redeemer, " all ye that labor and are heavy laden and 
I will give you rest. My yoke is easy, and my bur- 
den is light." Matth. xi. 28 — 30. " In the last day, the 
great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, If 
any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink." John 
vii. 37. These passages, it will at once occur to you, are 
but a specimen of the language of the Scripture on the 
subject, and the meaning of such language cannot be 
mistaken. It is as far as possible from any representa- 
tion that the provisions of salvation are limited in their 
nature or design ; or that man is incapacitated from em- 
bracing the offer ; or that there are, from any cause what- 
ever, insuperable obstacles to his salvation. If there are 



SALVATION EASY. 151 

passages in the Scripture which speak of difficulties and 
obstacles of any kind to the salvation of men — as there 
are, undoubtedly — they are such as refer to obstacles on 
the part of man, and not on the part of God; obstacles 
which the sinner has himself formed, and not those which 
arise from any want of fulness in the provisions which 
God has made, or any want of willingness on his part to 
save the soul. 

(2.) The second consideration to which I refer for 
proof on this point is, that the difficulties which did exist 
in regard to salvation, and which man could not have 
overcome, have all been taken away by the plan of sal- 
vation. A specification of a few of these difficulties will 
illustrate the idea which I now present. One of these 
obstacles related to pardon. Man had sinned. And yet 
it is manifest that he could not be self-pardoned, nor could 
he be pardoned by a fellow man, nor by the highest 
angel. It was only the being whose law had been vio- 
lated, and who had been offended, that could extend for- 
giveness. A neighbor cannot pardon your child who has 
done wrong to you ; nor can a foreign government par- 
don a traitor to his country ; nor can a murderer pardon 
himself. The solution of the question whether the of- 
fender could or could not be pardoned under the divine 
government, was one that was lodged in the bosom of 
God, and over which man had no control. Pardon 
could not be extorted — for man had no power to do this ; 
it could not be demanded — for then it would not be par- 
don, but justice ; it could not be purchased by gold or 
pearls — for of what value are they to the Creator of all 
things ; it could not be procured by penance, and self- 
inflicted pains — for what merit is there in uncommended 
self-torture ? Yet all this difficulty has been removed. 
What all the gold and diamonds of the East could not 
purchase, has been offered as a free gift to all. None are 
so poor that they may not procure it ; none are so guilty 
that it may not be freely bestowed upon them. A kin- 
dred difficulty related to the atonement. It was just as 
true that man could make no atonement for his sins, as 
it was that he could not of himself secure pardon. Nor 
had he any thing which he could offer as an expiation 
for the past. " Will the Lord be pleased with thousands 



152 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil ? Shall I 
give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my 
body for the sin of my soul ?" Mic. vi. 7. Man had 
nothing which could be a compensation, or an atonement 
for his past sins ; and after all the efforts, the costly obla- 
tions, the gorgeous ceremonials, and the bloody sacrifices, 
and the painful penances of the pagan world, man is just 
as far from having made any suitable atonement, as he 
was when Cain brought his uncommended and unac- 
ceptable offering to the offended Creator. And it would 
have been so to the end of time. Unless man could do 
something, or offer something that would repair the 
evils of apostacy, how could he make an atonement for 
his sins ? But this difficulty has been removed. An 
ample atonement has been made. There is no more that 
needs to be done ; and there is no more that can be done. 
The atonement is sufficient in its nature for all men. The 
death of Christ is declared to be the " propitiation for the 
sins of the whole world." It is expressly affirmed that 
he " died for all" ; that he " tasted death for every man." 
Nothing on this subject remains to be desired ; and no 
man can now approach God feeling that there is the 
slightest difficulty in the way of his salvation from any 
want of sufficiency in the provisions of the atonement ; 
any want of willingness in the Redeemer to save him ; or 
any want of efficacy in his blood to cleanse from all sin. It 
is impossible for the human mind to conceive that there 
should be a more complete and entire removal of all ob 
stacles in any case, or in relation to any subject whatever, 
than has occurred in regard to the plan of the atonement 
through Jesus Christ. Again — there was a difficulty also 
in regard to the love of sin. It was certain that while 
man had all the requisite power to do the will of God, he 
never would of himself yield to his claims, and forsake 
his transgressions. He was so alienated from God, that 
that alienation would have forever prevented his return 
to God, even had there been no other obstacle. But God 
has met this difficulty also. What man would not do, he 
has provided the means of his accomplishing. To the 
sinner, sensible of the deep corruption of his own nature, 
he has granted the Holy Spirit, for the very purpose of 



SALVATION EASY. 153 

enabling him to overcome his love of sin, and of turning 
him to God. And there is not a depraved propensity of 
his nature which the Spirit of God cannot subdue \ not an 
unholy affection which he cannot remove ; not a corrupt 
desire which he cannot obliterate forever. 

God has, in this manner, met all the obstacles which 
stood in the way of salvation. He has designed that every 
thing on his part that can be regarded as a difficulty, 
should be removed ; and that he should himself be able 
to approach men with the assurance that so far as he 
was concerned, there should be no obstacle to per- 
fect and eternal reconciliation. He has devised a plan 
through which he can consistently offer full pardon, and 
so that he will be as fully glorified in the salvation as in 
the condemnation of the sinner. He has gone even be- 
yond this, and has met man on his own side of the diffi- 
culty, and furnished him with the means of overcoming 
the sinfulness of the heart itself. The case is like this. 
When two of your neighbors are engaged in a contro- 
versy which has been long continued, you gain much if 
you can go to the party that has done the wrong, and 
say, ' Your injured neighbor is willing to be reconciled. 
Every difficulty which had existed in his mind has been 
removed, and he now desires to be at peace. By great 
self-denial and sacrifice, though without compromitting 
his own dignity or honor, he has removed all the obsta- 
cles which subsisted to perfect harmony, and he is now 
desirous of walking with you in the bonds of unity and 
concord/ So God approaches every impenitent man. 
With the assurance that all the obstacles on his part have 
been removed, he comes and offers life. He proclaims 
that every thing which man could not have done in this 
case, but which was needful to be done, has been accom- 
plished, and that all that remains for the sinner is easy, 
and may be and should be performed. 

(3.) The third consideration in support of my position 
is, that the terms of salvation are the most simple that 
they possibly could be. It is not only true that God has 
removed all the obstacles which existed on his part to 
salvation, but it is also true that he has made the condi- 
tions as easy as it is possible to conceive them to be. 



154 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

These terms are repeated often in the Bible. " He that 
believeth and is baptized, shall be saved." " If thou 
shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt 
believe in thy heart that God raised him from the dead, 
thou shalt be saved." "With the heart," Paul adds, 
" man believeth unto righteousness," i. e. unto justifica- 
tion, or in connection with believing he becomes justi- 
fied ; " and with the mouth confession" i. e. profession 
" is made unto salvation ;" and the sense of the whole 
is, that simple reliance on the Lord Jesus in the heart, 
and a suitable acknowledgment of him before men will 
be crowned with everlasting salvation. Now the remark 
is obvious, that these terms are as simple and as easy as 
it is possible to conceive any terms to be. If man him- 
self were to choose his own terms of salvation, he could 
not select any more easy than God has himself appointed. 
It is not gold which he demands ; it is not a costly offer- 
ing ; it is not painful penance ; it is not stripes, or impri- 
sonment, or a pilgrimage to a distant land. It is an act 
of simple confidence in Jesus Christ, and a suitable ac- 
knowledgment of him before the world at large. And 
that man himself could not ask more simple and easy 
terms, is apparent from the fact that when left to his own 
way, he has uniformly chosen some method infinitely 
more painful and self-denying than the gospel requires. 
He seeks salvation by costly offerings and bloody rites , 
by painful fastings and penances ; by scourging, and tor- 
ture, and self-inflicted woes ; by pilgrimages over barren 
rocks and burning sands to some distant shrine of his 
idol god ; but no where has man ever thought of a plan 
of salvation requiring so little personal sacrifice, and so 
little that is painful as the Christian plan. This stands 
alone, as admirable for the ease of compliance with it, 
as for the simplicity of its aim. It requires no impracti- 
cable thing. It is simply demanding that that should be 
exercised towards God our Saviouf which is everyday 
exercised towards men. We exercise confidence every- 
day in a father, a mother, a neighbor, a civil ruler ; in a 
bank, a mercantile house, a book, and a promise ; and 
God demands that similar confidence should be reposed 
in him, and in that Redeemer whom he hath sent. The 
reasonableness of this is not the object of our present re- 



SALVATION EAST. 155 

search. It is the fact to which I am referring, and the 
remark is, that in a scheme of salvation nothing more 
simple than this could be conceived ; and that God could 
not possibly require less. When a child has rebelled 
against his father, can that father do less than require 
proofs of returning confidence in him before he can re- 
admit him to favor ? When a professed friend has injured 
you in every way possible, can you do less than to de- 
mand proofs of returning confidence before you can treat 
him as a friend ? Can there be any friendship, any union, 
unless that confidence shall be restored ? 

I regard, therefore, the proposition as one that is unde- 
niable, that salvation is made as easy by God as possible ; 
and that the terms are as simple and as practicable as can 
be conceived. 

II. My second object is, to enquire why he has done 
so, or why he has selected the simple conditions to which 
I have referred, as those by which we may be saved. 

It is undeniable, that it is on account of the very sim- 
plicity of this plan that multitudes reject it. Had it been 
attended with greater difficulties ; had it required penance, 
and toil, and pilgrimages, it would have excited much 
greater interest in the minds of a large portion of the 
world. This is proved conclusively from the fact that 
the most painful and degrading of the heathen religions 
excite deeper interest among their votaries than the Chris- 
tian scheme does in a nominally Christian community. 
I Every pagan is devoted to his religion, and holds all that 
S he possesses as at the disposal of his gods ; nor does he 
i deem any sacrifice too great, any penance too severe, any 
i pilgrimage too long, if he may secure the favor of the 
i fancied god. In a large portion of the community, how- 
i ever, where the gospel is preached, it excites no emotion, 
| and prompts to no effort to secure an interest in it. By 
' multitudes it is regarded as deserving contempt ; by mul- 
titudes with hatred and indignation. It is still to one 
I class a stumbling-block, to another foolishness. One rea- 
| son undoubtedly is, the very ease of its terms ; the fact 
! that it appeals to all men as on a level ; that it contem- 
| plates the salvation of the rich and the poor, the bond 
. and the free, the master and the slave, on the same con- 
! ditions, and all as without personal merit, and all as to 



156 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

be saved by mere favor, without money and without 
price. My wish is now to state some reasons why God 
has appointed salvation on conditions so simple and easy. 

(1.) One is, that the design of bestowing salvation on 
all classes of men, demanded of necessity some plan that 
was plain to be understood, and that was easy to be com- 
plied with. The mass of men are poor, and ignorant, 
and debased. They have no gold to offer — if gold were 
of value in obtaining heaven ; they are incapable of long 
and painful pilgrimages — if pilgrimages would be of any 
avail. If a scheme of religion is adapted to our race, it 
must be fitted to the poor, the needy, the slave, the igno- 
rant, and the wretched. It must be so easy that even 
children could appreciate and comprehend its essential ele- 
ments. And this was and ought to have been the object. 
It was not to save the rich only, and philosophers only, 
and the great only — for their souls are of no more value 
than the souls of others ; but it was to save men deeply 
depraved, and ignorant, and degraded. Besides, the de- 
sign of religion is not to go to those who are already 
elevated and happy, but to go down to the poor, the 
beggar, and the slave, to elevate them to the skies. 

The religion of the gospel, therefore, contemplated as 
a leading purpose, what has not been attempted, or if 
attempted, what has been unsuccessful in other systems. 
Its design was to elevate and save the mass of men, and 
at the same time, and in the same way, to save the more 
learned and refined of the race. It entered on the before 
untried task of adapting itself to the most degraded and 
vile of the human family ; and at the same time of pre 
senting such truths as should expand and sanctify the 
most profound intellects on earth, and be fitted to the 
largest views which the human mind can form. And it 
is done. It has truths which are fitted to excite the 
amazement of the most lofty intellects, and into which 
the angels desire to look; truths over which Bacon and 
Newton bowed with the most profound reverence ; and 
it is at the same time so simple that it is understood in its 
mean features in the Sunday-school, and can communi- 
cate its saving messages to the beggar that lies at the 
gate. All may be saved by it ; and the lofty intellect of 
the one class will feel that it is elevated by the gospel as 



SALVATION EASY. 157 

well as the feeble powers of the other ; the large heart 
of the one will feel that the gospel is as much fitted to 
promote its sanctification as it is to promote the eternal 
purity of the other ; and the farthest extremes of the 
human family are met by that simple and pure system 
which requires as its great conditions repentance toward 
God and faith in Christ Jesus. 

(2.) The system is designed to humble men, and was 
on that account made so simple and plain. It cannot be 
denied that it is fitted to bring down the intellect and the 
heart of man. To be saved by mere favor ; to enter 
heaven by special grace ; to be saved by the mere exer- 
cise of faith, without merit and without claim, is deeply 
abasing to the pride of man. God intended that it should 
be so, and one purpose of the plan was to " stain the 
pride of all human glory." Hence the gospel pays tri- 
bute to no rank, wealth, learning, or power. It seeks out 
no palace as its residence — and is as much at home in the 
cottage as in the most magnificent dwelling. It reveals no 
royal path to heaven. It saves no man because he is 
elothed in purple and fine linen. It comes into no dwell- 
ing because it is splendidly decorated, and garnished ; 
and it offers bliss to no one because he is attended by a 
splendid train of menials, or because men do him ho- 
mage. It saves no one because he is beautiful, or be- 
cause he is strong, or because he is learned, or because 
he is honored. It does not refuse to save them ; but it 
ofttimes passes by their abodes, and finds its home in the 
humble dwelling of the poor. 

Is it not right that this should be so ? What is there in 
that beauty that will soon become the prey of corruption 
and banquet of worms, that should constitute a claim to 
salvation ? Is it more comely than the lily or the blushing 
rose that soon decays ? What is there in that splendid 
mansion that should attract the presence of the God who 
dwells in light inaccessible, and who is encompassed with 
the glory of heaven ? What is there in that pride of rank 
and office that should attract the great and eternal God 
to bestow his peculiar favors there ? What is there in the 
amusements and plans of the gay and the rich, that should 
induce the God of heaven to accommodate his plans to 
their caprice, and bend his schemes to their pleasure ? 
14 



158 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

Nothing. But there may be much, very much there, that 
shall demand just such a humbling system as the gospel 
—a system that shall level all that pride, and bring the 
gay and self-confident sinner to the dust. Does not the 
original taint of our fallen nature as deeply pervade his 
heart as the heart of the obscurest man ? Is not the gay 
and fashionable, the rich and learned sinner as deeply 
sunk in depravity as the rest of his fellow-mortals ? Has 
he not a heart as offensive to God as they have who are 
in humble life ? Will not a few years bring that beauty 
and strength as low as the most degraded of the species ? 
Will not the worm feed as sweetly on all that comeliness 
as on the most down-trodden of the race ? And is it not 
well, is it not indispensable, that the system of religion 
should meet all this pride, and bring all this lofty-mind- 
edness low in the dust ? Men in their great interests are 
on a level, and Christianity simply recognizes this fact. 
Their food, their raiment, their health, their vigor, are all 
given by the same God. The same blood flows in their 
veins ; they have the same pains and sicknesses when 0:1 
a bed of disease ; they are partakers of the same depra- 
vity ; they lie side by side in the same bed of earth, and 
moulder back to dust together. Why should not the sys 
tern of religion be framed as if this were so, and be so 
humiliating as to reduce the pride of all, and yet so ele- 
vating as to raise all to the hopes of the same heaven, 
and fill all alike with wonder at their own real dignity 
as immortal beings, and at the condescension of the infi- 
nite God ? 

(3.) God has made the system so simple and so easy, 
because the terms which he proposes are just fitted to 
meet all the evils of the world. 

In the Bible he has made/hzYA indispensable, and has 
attached an unspeakable importance to it. " He that 
believeth and is baptized, shall be saved ; and he that 
believeth not shall be damned." Two or three remarks 
will show why God has selected this, and has made its 
exercise the indispensable condition of salvation. One 
is, that the true source of all evil to man is a want of 
confidence in his Creator — a want of confidence in his 
promises, his law, his claims, his threatenings, his qualifi- 
cations for universal empire. This want of confidence in 



SALVATION EASY. 159 

God has produced the same evils in his administration 
which it does any where. A want of confidence between 
a husband and wife annihilates their happiness, and turns 
their once peaceful dwelling into a hell ; a want of con- 
fidence between parents and children is the end of order 
and government ; a want of confidence ih a friend, a 
physician, a lawyer, or a pastor, is the parent of distress 
and wo ; a want of confidence in a commercial commu- 
nity is an end of prosperity. And so it is in the govern- 
ment of God. Man is wretched only because he has no 
confidence in his Creator. He docs not worship him as 
God ; he does not believe that he is wise ; he does not 
go to him hi trouble ; he docs not rely on his promises; 
he does not seek him in time of distress, he does not trust 
him in death. Now the only thing needful to make this 
a happy world, with all its sicknesses and sadnesses, is 
to restore confidence in God. This would meet all the 
evils of the apostasy, and would compose the agitated 
human bosom to peace — like oil on troubled waves. It 
will have just the effect under the divine government 
which it will have in a family, if you restore confidence 
to the alienated affections of husband and wife ; and in 
a community, if you restore universal confidence between 
man and man. Another reason why this is required is, 
that God could require no less of man. In a plan of sal- 
vation intended to be adapted to all the race, that was the 
lowest possible demand, as we have already seen that it 
is the simplest and most easy. Could God admit alien- 
ated creatures to himself on any other condition than that 
they should have confidence in him ? Could he admit 
those to heaven — to dwell with him, to range the fields 
of glory, to encompass his throne — who had no reliance 
in his qualifications for universal empire ? Can you ad- 
mit the man who has been your professed friend, but who 
has slandered and injured you, again to your friendship, 
without evidence of returning confidence and regard ? 
Can a parent admit a rebellious and ungrateful child 
again to the fulness of his affection and to his family, if 
he has no evidence of returning confidence ? God, there- 
fore, requires faith in him, because he could require no 
less. It is the lowest possible condition. And for a simi- 
lar reason, he requires that that faith should be avowed. 



160 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

"With the mouth confession is made unto salvation." 
The want of confidence has been open. The injury has 
been public. The life of a sinner has not been passed hi 
a corner. It is public ; it is known ; it is seen. The 
want of confidence in God here on earth is known above 
the stars ; and wherever there is returning confidence, it 
should be avowed, and the restored sinner should be de- 
sirous that his return to God should be as widely known 
as his apostasy has been. When a man has calumniated 
you publicly, it will not do for him to come and confess 
it to you alone, and in the dark. He has done you public 
wrong, and the confession should be public, too. The 
sinner should be willing, therefore, that all worlds shall 
be apprized of his return, and seek that throughout the 
universe it shall be proclaimed that he has confidence in 
the Creator. Thus he will not only believe in his heart 
on the Lord Jesus, but will confess him with his mouth, 
and desire that the universe shall be acquainted with his 
repentance and return. 

I have thus endeavored to show that the plan of sal- 
vation is the most simple and easy that man could con- 
ceive or desire, and that it is proposed to man on the 
lowest possible terms, and on the terms which were in- 
dispensable in a design to save the world. There are 
some inferences following from the subject to which I 
now ask your attention for a moment. 

1. One is, the necessity of a profession of religion. 
The view of the Lord Jesus on this subject has been ex- 
pressed without any ambiguity. " Whosoever shall con- 
fess me before men, him will I confess also before my 
Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny 
me before men, him will I also deny before my Father 
which is in heaven." Matth. x. 32, 33. And this ap- 
pointment is not arbitrary. Its propriety and reasonable- 
ness are obvious. Why should a man enter heaven who 
is unwilling to acknowledge God his Saviour in all the 
proper ways on earth ? Why should he hope for appro- 
bation or reward who seeks to hide his light under a 
bushel, and is ashamed to have it understood that he 
loves God? How can he expect the divine favor, ah 
whose influence is with the world, and who habitually 
neglects, or deliberately refuses to obey a positive com- 



SALVATION EASY. 161 

mand of the Lord Jesus Christ ? And how can he infer 
that he has any love to God, who is never willing to 
avow it ; how can he have any true dependence on the 
Saviour who is unwilling to recognize it ; how can he 
have any sympathy with him who is unwilling to take 
up his cross, and to suffer shame and reproach, if need be, 
in his cause ? God, therefore, has put this subject just 
where all other things are put. And as we infer that a 
man has no friendship for us whose name and influence 
are with our enemies, and who never ranks himself with 
us ; as we infer that a man has no love of country who 
prefers that his name should be enrolled among her ene- 
mies, and who never comes forth to fight her battles, or 
to advance her cause, so are we not to infer the same 
thing respecting the great truths and duties of religion ? 
Every man who truly loves the Lord Jesus is required in 
a proper way to express that love ; every man who does 
not in the proper way express that love, gives evidence 
that it has no existence in his heart. 

(2.) We learn from our subject that men have no ex- 
cuse if they are not Christians, and are not saved. We 
have seen that that salvation is proposed on the simplest 
terms possible, and on the lowest conditions on which 
God could offer it to guilty men. And no one can doubt 
this fact who ever looked at the scheme. Nor can any 
one doubt it who contemplates what it has done. Thou- 
sands and tens of thousands of the poor, the illiterate, the 
despised ; thousands of children, as well as of the rich 
and the great, have embraced it, and been saved. But 
if this is so, then man is without excuse. Had it been a 
scheme fitted to an intellect above that of man, then he 
could not have been under obligation to embrace it. Had 
it required us to do a work like raising the dead, or cre- 
ating a world, then man would have been free from blan e 
if he did not embrace it. And in like manner, if God 
had required all to go on a pilgrimage to a distant land ; 
or all to purchase salvation with gold, how few of the 
race could have availed themselves of the privilege, and 
been saved ! 

And thus, too, if it were dependent on any other im- 
possibility, or any thing beyond the powers and capa- 
bilities of man, he would have been innocent in respecting 
14* 



162 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

it. Nay, he would not only have been innocent in reject- 
ing it, but would have been required to reject it. But 
none of these things can be pretended. It is as simple as 
it can be ; so plain that he that runs may read ; as wide 
in its offers as the world ; and it is offered to men on the 
lowest possible conditions. The simplest thing imagina- 
ble is all that is required to be saved. " Look unto me 
and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth." " Whosoever 
shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved." What 
can man ask more than this ? What terms more easy, 
more feasible, more merciful, more just ? And what ex- 
cuse will be rendered in the last day if these terms are 
rejected, and if the soul shall be lost? Who will be to 
blame for the destruction of the soul ? Who, if eternal 
ruin is brought down on our heads, and we sink down to 
wo ? What can man say in the day of judgment, if he 
will not ask for pardon ? Why should he not be lost if he 
will not do it ? 

(3.) Finally. I may state in one word the true reason 
which operates on many minds to prevent their being 
Christians. A nobleman of the East, rich and honored 
at a magnificent court, was affected with the leprosy. 
He heard, by a servant girl, of a celebrated prophet. He 
went to him. " Go," said the man of God, " and wash 
seven times in Jordan, and thou shalt be healed. And he 
turned away in a rage." " Lo, I thought," said he, " he 
will surely come out to me, and stand and call on the 
name of Jehovah his God, and strike his hand over the 
place, and recover the leper. Are not Abana and Phar- 
par, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of 
Israel ? May I not wash in them and be clean ?" 2 Kings 
v. 11, 12. To man, proud even in the deep leprosy of 
sin, God also sends a message of mercy. ( Go/ is his 
language, < to the man of Nazareth. Go to the cross. Go, 
without money and without price ; go, poor, and weary, 
and heavy laden, and penitent. Go not on a pilgrimage ; 
go not with pomp and parade ; go not with your gold 
and your honors ; go not depending on your rank, or 
your deeds of righteousness ; go with the beggar and the 
slave. Go, and lie down beneath the cross with the most 
degraded of the human race, a lost, wretched, ruined, 
leprous man ; go, and receive life as the mere gift of God, 



SALVATION EASY. 163 

and render to the bleeding victim on the tree all the praise 
of your redemption.' And when this is said, in how 
many hearts does the spirit of the proud yet leprous 
Assyrian rise ; and the lip curls with scorn, and the brow 
is knit with anger, and the sinner turns away in a rage. 
1 Am I thus to be saved V is the language of his heart. 
'Rather let me die.' And he dies — and sinks to wo, 
because it was too easy to be saved ! 



SERMON XI. 

THE PRINCIPLES ON WHICH A PROFESSION OF RELIGION 
SHOULD BE MADE. NO. I. 

II. Cor, vi. 17. 18. Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye 
separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing ; and I will re- 
ceive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and 
daughters, saith the Lord Almighty. 

This passage of Scripture is an address to Christians, 
and states the principles on which they should act in re- 
ference to the world. It demands a separation from the 
world ; and it contains the assurance that if such a sepa- 
ration exists, God will be their father, and that they shall 
sustain to him the relation of adopted children. 

My wish, at this time, is, not however to apply it to 
Christians in general, but to the first public act of a 
Christian's life — -the act of making a profession of religion. 
That, emphatically, is an act of coming out from the 
world ; an act of separating ourselves from others ; an act 
by which we express our purpose not to " touch the un- 
clean thing" ; an act by which we publicly declare our 
purpose to live as becomes " sons or daughters of the 
Lord Almighty." The doctrine which it will be the main 
object of this discourse to defend, is, that a profession of 
religion implies a separation from the world, and a pur- 
pose to lead a life of holiness ; and my aim will be to de- 
rive from the New Testament the principles on which 
such a profession should be made. 

It is the duty of every man to make a profession of re- 
ligion. It would be easy to make this apparent if it were 
necessary to the design of this discourse. Nothing can be 
more evident than that every man should profess to be 
the friend of the one only God who made him, and of the 
Redeemer who died to save him. But this obligation to 
profess religion supposes a previous obligation to embrace 
it, and to become a sincere Christian. It supposes that 
164 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 165 

there should be certain qualifications in order that it may- 
be done in a manner that will be acceptable to God. 

The importance of just views on this subject will be 
apparent from two considerations. One is, that a pro- 
fession of religion is one of the most important steps in a 
man's life. Its vows are sacred ; its results such as must 
deeply affect his destiny. Henceforward he will be recog- 
nised as a professed friend of God, and stand before the 
world as a public witness of the truth and a candidate 
for immortal glory. A part of .the obligation of evincing 
the nature of true religion, and of defending and extend- 
ing it, will rest on him ; and to him the world will look 
as an example of what religion is designed to be. The 
other consideration showing the importance of just views 
in making a profession of religion, is, that his whole 
Christian character and usefulness will probably depend 
on the feelings with which he enters the church. It 
is undoubtedly a fact, that of those who become pro- 
fessing Christians, scarce one in five contributes much 
to its real strength. Some have very limited means of 
usefulness. Some are scarcely fitted, either from want 
of talent or education, to do good at all except in the very 
narrowest circles. But of those who do not labor under 
these disqualifications, the number of those who are the 
bone and sinew of the church ; who are the bold and un- 
flinching advocates of the truth; who sustain the prayer 
meetings and the institutions of benevolence ; who can be 
depended on when a tide of worldliness and vanity comes' 
in upon the church ; who labor with a zeal that never 
tires, and an ardor that never cools to save souls from 
death, is comparatively very few. Part are zealous for a 
time, and then their zeal dies away like " the morning 
cloud and the early dew." Part are characteristically in- 
dolent, and bring no active energy to the cause of Chris- 
tianity. Part become soon conformed to the world, and 
are better known there than in the church. Part become 
immersed in political strifes, and their influence as Chris- 
tians expires of course. Part become rich, and are intro- 
duced into new circles of life, and their first attachment 
to the church becomes chilled and cold. Part form 
new connections in life, and their ardor languishes, and 
they thus show that whatever there might have been 



166 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

of zeal at any time was the result of circumstances rather 
than of principle. Part take their complexion in religion 
like the chameleon, from the objects and associates around 
them — are zealous when they are zealous ; benevolent 
when they are benevolent; lukewarm when they are 
lukewarm; and worldly when they are conformed to the 
world. A large portion, we have reason to apprehend, 
have very slight views of the principles involved in the 
organization of the church ; and some are strangers to re- 
ligion altogether. 

So deeply impressed was the Saviour with considera- 
tions like these, that with great solemnity he at one time 
asked the question, " when the son of man cometh shall 
he find faith on the earth ?" Luke xviii. S. Should he 
come now, what measure of faith in his promises, in his 
truth, in his religion, in his laws would he find? I 
desire this day to stand before you, and apprise you of 
what is involved in making a profession of religion ; 
and while I would offer every encouragement to the 
humble and the contrite to come, it is also a duty from 
which you would not desire me to swerve to lay down 
the principles on which the New Testament requires that 
a profession of religion should be made, without any de- 
parture from their high import. To that I now proceed. 

I. There should be true conversion to God. In other 
words, he who makes a profession of religion should be 
a sincere Christian. He should not merely be a serious 
minded man ; a sober, moral, amiable man ; or a man 
speculatively holding the truth, but he should be a re- 
newed man. He should not merely be an awakened or 
convicted sinner ; he should not merely be anxious to be 
a Christian, but he should be in fact a true Christian. He 
should not enter the church with a desire to be converted 
at the communion, or at any future time, but he should 
be in fact already converted. He should not enter the 
church expecting to be in some mysterious way there 
prepared for heaven, but having evidence that he is now 
prepared for heaven, and that if he should die before he 
had an opportunity to partake of the communion, imper- 
fect as he may feel that he is, he would be admitted to 
glory. 

I am thus particular in stating this point because of its 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 167 

great importance, and because it is vital to all the views 
which I shall yet state. The church of Christ is a church 
of true converts, not of those to be converted. It is de- 
signed to be an assemblage of real Christians ; and not 
of those who, for various reasons, may desire to become 
Christians. 

You will appreciate the importance of this remark 
when you reflect on the inducements which exist to enter 
the church without any evidence of piety. One of the 
prevalent errors of these times, unless I am mistaken, in 
all churches, is the desire for numbers rather than for 
piety; the wish to swell the catalogue of church members 
rather than to augment the solid piety and the real strength 
of the household of faith. To this there are often a great 
many temptations; and there is reason to apprehend that 
not a few are persuaded to make a profession of religion 
who are altogether strangers to its nature. There is the 
love of numbers itself— the desire of recording accessions 
at every communion — a desire right in itself if intended 
to glorify Christianity, but which also may be mere sel- 
fishness and vanity. In all associations of men, civil, po- 
litical, literary, and religious, there is to be found the 
operation of this principle — the mere desire of numerical 
strength, rather than the strength which is derived from 
principle, and from solid worth. There is often, also, the 
vanity of a minister of religion desiring public evidence 
of success arising from the fact that many join his com- 
munion, and leading him to persuade them to connect 
themselves with the church even when they give most 
slender evidence of qualification, or it may be, no evi- 
dence at all. There is also the anxiety of friends. A 
Christian parent feels a deep anxiety for his children, and 
urges them to connect themselves with the church ; a 
husband feels an earnest solicitude for a wife, or a wife 
for a husband; a sister for a brother, or a friend for a friend, 
and there is a feeling operating very secretly and very 
subtilly that if they are in the church they are safe. It is 
needless to add that many may enter the church under the 
influence of strong temporary feeling, self-deluded, or 
with a vague kind of expectation that they may somehow 
be converted in the church. 

There are not many men who are intentionally hypo- 



16S PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

crites either in the church or in the world. That there I 
may have been some in the church, none can doubt ; and 
that there are some such men in all associations, no one 
has any reason to disbelieve. Wherever an object is to 
be gained of sufficient value in the view of men to over- 
come their sense of honesty and of truth, men will play 
the hypocrite ; and thus sometimes, but rarely, they enter 
the church; and thus too they attach themselves to a po- 
litical party, or make professions of honesty to which they 
know they are strangers. 

But that there are those in the church who are stran- 
gers to religion no one can doubt who remembers that 
there was a Judas among the Apostles ; an Ananias, and 
Sapphira, a Simon Magus, and a Demas among the early 
disciples ; who remembers the parable of the tares of the ( 
field; who remembers the declaration of Paul, " Many 
walk of whom I have told you often and now tell youj 
even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of 
Christianity ;" who remembers the epistle which the 
Saviour directed to be sent to the seven churches of Asia ; 
or who looks into any Christian church of any denomi- j 
nation, and sees how little many professed Christians, 
even in external form, exemplify the religion of the Re- 
deemer. 

My position is, that no one should enter the Christian 
church who is not a sincere Christian ; a converted man ; 
a sinner born again; in other words, who has not evi-j 
dence of personal piety which will not only bear the test 
of an examination before the pastor and officers of the 
church, but before the Master himself, and at the judg- 
ment seat of God. No one should enter the church who 
would not enter heaven should he die ; no one who is not 
as certainly prepared to sit down with Abraham, Isaac, 
and Jacob, in the realms of glory, as he is to sit down with 
his friends at the table of communion. 

My proof of this position is, in few words, this : (1.) It 
is implied in the very nature of a profession. What is a j 
profession? It is a profession of something — of what? 
Is it not profession of love to God; of dependence on Jesus 
Christ ; of attachment to the Redeemer and his cause ; of 
a purpose to lead a Christian life ? And where this exists, , 
does it not constitute religion ? It is a confession of sin ; | 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 169 

an acknowledgment of guilt, and folly, and former errors 
and crimes ; and is not this a part of religion ? It is a 
profession of the truth of the Bible, and of a purpose to 
live according to its requirements ; and. is not this a part 
of religion ? It is not a profession of a purpose to be a 
Christian at some future time ; it is a public recognition 
of those feelings and doctrines which constitute religion 
itself. A man professes to be a moral man. What is the 
meaning of this? Is it that, though now immoral, he 
means to become moral hereafter? He professes to be a pa- 
triot. Is the sense of this that he designs to become a friend 
of his country at some future time ? No. This is not his 
meaning. But it is that he is now a moral man, and a 
lover of his country. So when a man professes religion, 
it is a public and solemn declaration that, according to the 
best of his knowledge and belief, he has religion, that he 
is born again, and has truly repented of his sins. Such is 
the obvious interpretation of the act; so it is understood 
by the world. It is a public declaration made over the 
slain body and shed blood of Jesus Christ, that according 
to the most candid and prayerful view which he can take 
of the subject he is a true Christian, and wishes to be re- 
cognised as such. So the world interprets it ; so the Bible; 
so God. (2.) The Bible so speaks of it. Christ every where 
speaks of a profession of religion as confessing him before 
men. " Whosoever shall confess me before men, him will 
I also confess before my Father in heaven." Matth. x. 32. 
Luke xii. 8. But to confess Christ is to confess him as a 
Saviour, a Redeemer ; an example ; — to profess a pur- 
pose to be saved by him, to follow him, to obey him. (3.) 
Again. The Lord's Supper is not designed or adapted to 
be a converting ordinance. A man sits down at the table 
of communion. What, is the design of it? Is it that he 
may be converted ? Was Judas converted at that table? 
This is not its design. It is solely to commemorate what 
Christ has done, and to bring impressively before the mind 
the great events of his death. " Do this in r reme?Jibrance 
of me," is the command ; and this implies that there is 
already such an attachment to him as to make such a 
commemoration proper. Do we institute memorials for 
the purpose of creating-an attachment to those whom we 
despise, or hate ? Is not the very object of a memento to 
15 



170 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

recall the image of one whom we love : to deepen attach- 
ment, to bind us more strongly to him or to his memory. 
The ring which we wear on the finger, or the hair of a 
friend that we preserve in a locket, is not to create love 
for that friend, but it is to bring it to remembrance and to 
perpetuate it. (4.) I advert to one other consideration 
which can never be urged too frequently. It is that few 
or none are ever converted who enter the church. This 
fact is one that is familiar to all who ever made any ob- 
servation ; and the philosophy of the fact is as apparent 
as the fact itself. A deceived person once in the church 
feels that he is safe. Preaching adapted to convert the 
impenitent he never applies to himself, for he is a mem- 
ber of the church, and he wards off all these appeals. — 
No one can go to him in private and address him person- 
ally as an impenitent man, for he would resist it as an 
affront. And there is another fact as undeniable as it is 
remarkable. It is, that appeals made in the sanctuary, 
and designed for him never reach him. Cautions and 
entreaties on the subject of self-deception; tender expos- 
tulations designed for him, pass by him unheeded. Some 
humble, pious, timid, praying, conscientious Christian 
shall apply all these appeals to himself, and be deeply 
distressed, while the cold, and formal, and deceived pro- 
fessor shall perhaps be asleep in the sanctuary, or shall 
deem it strange that the pastor can be so uncharitable 
as to suppose that any members of his flock can be prac- 
tising deception on themselves or their fellow-men. 

II. The second principle on which a profession of reli- 
gion should be made is, that there should be in fact, as 
there is in form, a separation from the world. This is 
the very command of the text. u - Come out from among 
them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not 
the unclean thing.'' The word " them" in the text— come 
out from among them — refers to the persons mentioned 
in the context — to the worshippers of idols, to the impure, 
to unbelievers. No one can doubt that the meaning of 
Paul is, that Christians should regard themselves as a pe- 
culiar people ; and that a distinct and definite line should 
be drawn between them and their fellow-men. It would 
be easy to multiply texts of Scripture to almost any extent 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 171 

inculcating the same idea. The following passages will 
set before you the current strain of the Scripture doctrine 
on this subject. " Be not conformed to this world." Ro- 
mans xii. 2. " Love not the world, neither things that are 
in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the 
Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the 
lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eye, and the pride of 
life, is not of the Father, but is of the world." 1. John ii. 
16. " Ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an 
holy nation, a peculiar people." 1. Pet. ii. 9. "My king- 
dom," said the Redeemer, " is not of this world." 

Now the only hope of restoring these solemn commands 
of Jesus Christ to their place in the church is by address- 
ing them, even perhaps with painful reiteration, to those 
who are about to make a profession of religion. There 
are worldly habits in the church itself as it is every where 
constituted, which it is perhaps impossible to eradicate. 
There are modes of living, styles of dress and of amuse- 
ment, and schemes of gain and ambition, whose opposi- 
tion to the spirit of the gospel does not strike us with 
amazement only because they are common. But we may 
stand at the portals of the church and remind those who 
are about to enter, of what the gospel requires at their 
hands. And despite of all that you may now see in the 
church, I lay it down as one principle that is to guide you, 
that you are not to be "conformed to this world." Neither 
in spirit, in opinion, in aim, in purpose, in amusement, in 
object, in desire, in your manner of life are you to be 
conformed to this world. You are to feel that you belong 
to a different community, are under different laws, and 
have different objects. You are, in all things to take upon 
yourself the laws of Jesus Christ; and if in all honesty 
you are not prepared for this, you are not prepared to 
make a profession of religion. 

To understand this, it may be proper to make a few 
other remarks. The grand principle in the Bible is, that 
on earth there are two great communities which are sepa- 
rate in their organization, their purpose, and their design. 
There is the community of the Christian church, em- 
bracing all of every name and land who are under the 
laws of Christianity ; and there is that great community 
". mich in the Bible is called " the world." The latter has 



172 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

its own laws, and purposes; and so has the former. 
Though mingled together in the same nation, neighbor- 
hood, or family, yet they are radically distinct. Now the 
act of making a profession of religion is, in fact, a coming 
out from one, and becoming identified with the other of 
these independent and separate communities. From this 
primary principle another follows, that there are differ- 
ent laws, purposes, and objects in these two entirely dis- 
similar kingdoms. The peculiarity of the one is, that it 
is governed by the laws of God as revealed in the Bible, 
and as sanctioned and enforced by conscience ; and of the 
other, that it is governed by the laws of honor, though 
they lead to cold-blooded and deliberate murder; of 
fashion — though frivolous and foolish, and attended with 
the loss of the soul ; of expediency or of pleasure ; of 
such laws as shall, in their apprehension, be best fitted to 
promote the ends they have in view — ostentation, ambi- 
tion, honor, or wealth. And another principle follows 
from this, that the world as such has no right to cross the 
line, and to give law to the members of the church. They 
are under the laws of the Bible : and all which cannot be 
defended by that is wrong. 

Now what I have to say is, that you are by no means 
prepared to connect yourself with the church, unless you 
are ready, effectually and finally, to bid adieu to the com- 
munity of the world as your portion, and to bring your- 
self wholly under the laws of the Bible. If there is a 
purpose to blend the two together; if there is an expecta- 
tion to be as gay and fashionable as the world ; if there is 
a desire for its pleasures : if there is an intention to shape 
your course by its maxims and its laws ; if you are not 
prepared to abandon, and to feel, that though you are in 
the world yet you are not " of the world," then you are 
by no means prepared to make a profession of religion. 
You would do more injury in the church than you would 
do good ; and your name had better be where your heart 
and your influence are. 

These are simple principles, and if applied they would 
guide you aright. It would be too long to attempt to 
carry them out ; and it is not necessary to do it. The 
principles which should regulate our intercourse with the 
world are very simple, and they may be expressed in few 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 173 

words. I will just suggest them. (1.) You are not to par- 
take of the sins of the world. This is clear, and needs 
no proof. All that is positively evil, and only evil, and 
that continually, is to be avoided by a Christian. Every 
thing which is a sinful waste of time, money, influence, 
strength, is to be avoided. What wide desolation would 
this simple principle make even in the practice of the 
members of the church ! (2.) You are not to partake of 
the amusements of the world as such. I mean that you 
are not to originate such amusements ; you are not to 
countenance them; you are not to partake of them. You 
are to go to no place where you will be expected to lay 
aside your Christian character. Now let it be remem- 
bered that over parties of pleasure, and over balls, and 
over all similar amusements, the world has the control. 
The world gives laws. The world dictates the conversa- 
tion. The world prescribes the dress, the hours, the ex- 
penses, the manner of conversation. Such places the 
Christian cannot control ; and Avhen he goes there he is 
expected for the time to lay aside the severity of his pro- 
fession, and to conform to the world. Such scenes are 
not arranged in accordance with the New Testament ; 
the New Testament is not allowed to reign there. And 
it becomes a plain and obvious principle, that where 
a professed Christian cannot act out his religion ; where 
he is expected to lay aside his Christian character for 
the time being; where he cannot without a violation 
of the rules of the association, or the company, intro- 
duce his own principles, and dwell, if he chooses, on 
the great wonders of redemption, his place is not there. 
(3.) There are great matters of entire innocence and 
propriety in which the Christian can act in common 
with this world — and his field of intercourse with them 
is there. Thus there are the common interests of justice ; 
of learning ; of agriculture ; of civil matters ; of public im- 
provements ; of a neighbourhood ; of a nation ; — his rights 
as a citizen and as a man, in all which he is called on to 
act in connexion with the people of the world. Yet in 
none of these instances is he to act in any way inconsist- 
ent with the principles of the most rigid Christian morali- 
ty ; and even in these things, whatever may be the aim 
15* 



174 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

of others, his aim is to promote the honor of God the 
Saviour. 

(4.) We are to associate with the people of this world 
so far as we can do them good. So the Saviour associated 
with the Scribes and Pharisees ; with the Sadducees and 
the Publicans, and with sinners. So on the Sabbath he 
went to dine with a Pharisee ; and so he entered the house 
of Zaccheus the Publican to bring salvation to him and 
his family. To all men we are to do good ; and to this end 
we are not to avoid them, or to say to them " stand by 
thyself for I am holier than thou ;" nor are we to be mo- 
rose, sour, or misanthropic; but to all we are to evince 
kindness and benevolence, and to every man we are to 
do all the good that God may put in our power. 

Such are some of the principles which are to regulate 
our intercourse with this world. Such the principles, I 
apprehend, on which, if you come aright, you will come 
into the church. And if these are not your principles, 
then it is apparent that your heart is with the world, and 
with your present feelings you should not make a pro- 
fession of religion. 

III. A third principle is, that you are to abandon what- 
ever is inconsistent with the honest purpose to be a 
whole-hearted Christian. As all hope of being understood 
here arises from the particularity with which my state- 
ments are made, I shall specify a few particulars snowing 
what I mean. The general principle I trust will not be 
called in question, that a man who comes into the church 
is to abandon whatever is wrong. Assuming this as in- 
disputable, I observe more particularly, that you are to 
abandon or surrender, 

(1.) The supreme love of property or money. "Who- 
soever he be of you," said the Master, " that forsaketh 
not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple." Luke 
xiv. 33. " Ye cannot," said he, " serve God and mam- 
mon." " Covetousness," says Paul, " is idolatry ;" and 
an idolator has no inheritance in the kingdom of God. — 
The early disciples were required by the Redeemer to 
forsake all that they had and to follow him ; and the early 
Christians did in fact give up all that they had, and de- 
voted all to the Son of God. Whatever Paul had 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 175 

of property, or learning, or talent that was valuable, he 
was ready to surrender it all to the cause of the Redeemer. 
(Phil. hi. 7. S.) " Yea, doubtless," said he, " I count all 
things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of 
Christ Jesus my Lord." God now requires all who 
come into the church as honestly to consecrate all that 
they have to him, and in reference to their property as 
well as their aims, and influence, and talent, to say as 
Saul of Tarsus did, " Lord what wilt thou have me to 
do ?" And if you are not prepared to devote your pro- 
perty honestly to God, to be sunk in the ocean, or swept 
away by the flame if he pleases ; if you are not prepared 
to impart of it to do good and benefit man ; if it is not to be 
your great aim in regard to that to do just what God re- 
quires, you are not prepared to make a profession of re- 
ligion. 

(2.) You must be prepared to abandon an evil course 
of life. This is evident. What I wish to say is, that 
not only gross vices are to be given up, but all forms 
of evil. Habits of gross evil, I know, are easily for- 
saken. But all that is false and evil is to be forsaken 
also. Profaneness is not only to be forsaken, but false- 
hood and deception are to be forsaken. The Christian is 
to be a man of strict uncompromising truth and honesty, 
no matter what the world is. If the people of the 
world choose to deceive in the prices or qualities of arti- 
cles of trade ; if they do not deem it necessary always to 
adhere to their promises ; if they choose to say they are 
not at home when they are at home, still the Christian 
is to be like Jesus Christ, and is to say, or instruct others 
to say only what he would. And unless you come into 
the church prepared to be a man of uncompromising 
truth and integrity, you are not prepared to make a pro- 
fession of religion. No matter what raptures you may 
have, or what zeal, or what spirit of prayer, or what joy, 
the Christian is to be an honest man, and if he is not an 
honest man all his supposed evidences of piety, are hay 
and stubble. 

(3.) You are to abandon your evil companions. If 
hitherto your chosen friends have been infidels or scoffers ; 
if they have been the pleasure-loving and the gay ; if they 



176 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

have oeen found among the patrons of the drama or the 
ball-room, as companions they are now to be forsaken, 
and you are to seek and find your associates among the 
disciples of the Lord Jesus. You are to come and say to 
each Christian brother, " thy people shall be my people, 
and thy God my God ; where thou diest, will I die, and 
there will I be buried." Ruth i. 16. 17. You are to 
breathe out the prayer of the Psalmist. " Remember me 
Lord with the favor which thou bearest unto thy peo- 
ple." Ps. cvi. 4. You are to regard the Christian brother- 
hood as your chosen companionship, and to have fellow- 
ship with the friends of your days of sin, only in the 
necessary intercourse of relationship, of business, or to do 
them good. If this subjects you to their hatred or their 
scoru, it is to be borne, and if you cannot bear it, it proves 
that you have no true love to the Redeemer and his 
cause. With the friends of Christ, if a Christian, you will 
dwell forever in a world where there is no revelry, no 
worldly pleasure ; and if on earth you decidedly prefer 
the society of the worldly and the gay to that of the 
humble friends of Christ, it shows where the heart is still, 
and demonstrates that it is not with Christ. How is he 
to be prepared for the society of heaven who has no love 
for the fellowship of Christians on earth ; who prefers a 
ball-room to a prayer meeting, and the conversation of 
the gay and the frivolous, or even the scientific and the 
literary, to conversation about the glory of Christianity 
and the enjoyment of heaven ? 

(4.) You should come prepare^ to give up even your 
kindred, and forsake them for Christ. On this point the 
Saviour was probably more explicit than on almost any 
other requirement of his religion. " If any man come to 
me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and 
children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life 
also, he cannot be my disciple." Luke xiv. 26. " He 
that loveth father and mother more than me, is not wor- 
thy of me, and he that loveth son or daughter more than 
me is not worthy of me." Matth. x. 37. On one occasion 
he commanded a man to follow him. " Surfer me first, 
said he, "to go and bury my father." " Let the dead bury 
the dead," was the firm reply of the Redeemer, " but go 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 177 

thou and preach the kingdom of God." Luke ix. 59. GO. 
He demanded the strong proof which would thus he 
shown that he preferred him to his own friends, and that 
he wa$ willing to break away from them even in the 
most tender and interesting circumstances, and to go 
where he required him. And the same principle is de- 
manded now. If a profession of religion requires you to 
differ in opinion from father, or mother, or kindred, it 
should be done. If it requires you to break away from 
their pleasures ; to cease to accompany them to the places 
of sin, you are to be willing to make the sacrifice, and to 
separate yourself unto God. If it shall demand of you to 
forsake your country and home, and to go to the ends of 
the earth to make him known, you are to come with that 
feeling. No one should enter the Christian church who 
would not be willing, if it were clearly shown to him to 
be his duty, to cross oceans to proclaim the Saviour's 
name, and to abandon forever all the comforts of his fire- 
side and his home. This Christ demanded of the Apos- 
tles ; and this he demands in every professor of religion. 
For if this feeling does not exist, how can there be a su- 
preme regard to the will of Christ ? 

(5.) Allied to this, you should be willing to abandon 
any calling, however honorable and lucrative it may be, 
for any other calling where you can do more good. — 
When Saul of Tarsus was converted, he was required to 
give up his plans of life and become a minister of the 
cross. And he did it without a murmur. So it must be 
in all other cases. No man comes into the church with 
a proper spirit who is not prepared to abandon any call- 
ing if Christ requires it, and if he can do more good in a 
new profession. It is not enough to say that his present 
calling is not unlawful, and that he may be useful in 
that. All that may be. But the grand question is, 
whether in that he can do more to honor Christ and 
save the world than in another. Remember one fact. 
God often converts young lawyers, and merchants, and 
farmers, and physicians, and mechanics, for the very 
purpose of making them ministers of the gospel — as 
he did Saul of Tarsus; and he expects them to fulfil 
his design as Saul did, by becoming heralds of salva- 



178 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

tion to a dying world. If he is not prepared to do 
just what in all honesty he believes Jesus Christ re- ■ 
quires of him, he is not prepared to make a profession 
of religion. 

(6.) One remark more under this head. If you are 
not willing to abandon any calling however lucrative it 
may be that is contrary to the Bible and to good morals, 
you should not dare to enter the church. If a man is 
converted as Paul was, pursuing an evil manner of life, 
though on the high road to honor and perhaps to wealth, 
and is not willing to abandon his course, he is not pre- 
pared to make a profession of religion. What sort of a 
professor of religion would Paul have been, if he had 
not been willing to give up the business of persecu- 
tion? If a man is converted who is a slaveholder, as 
John Newton was, he should be prepared to give up the 
business, or he should not be allowed to make a pro- 
fession of religion. Thus far all is clear. How is it now, 
under the operation of this principle, with the man who 
is engaged in the manufacture and sale of ardent spirits ? 
In ancient Ephesus there were men who practised cu- 
rious arts, and were devoted to it as a business. Under 
the preaching of Paul they were converted ; and one of 
the first promptings of their Christian zeal was to bring 
together those books, and burn them before all men to 
the amount in value of " fifty thousand pieces of silver" — 
making the expression of their abhorrence at their former 
life as public as their life and business had been. There 
was manifested the great principle for which I contend 
— that no man should connect himself with a church, 
who is not prepared, at any sacrifice, as they were, to 
abandon any business, however lucrative, which is evil, 
and only evil, and that continually. How can a man be 
a Christian who is not prepared to make such a sacrifice ? 
And why should he seek a connexion with a church to 
pursue his course of life under the sanction of the Chris- 
tian name ? No. The church needs not such members ; 
and the Saviour never designed that anv should profess 
his name who were not prepared forever to forsake all 
forms of evil however lucrative, and however honorable 
m the esteem of the world. No man can be a Christian who 



PROFESSING RELIGION. jy & 

I pursues a calling which cannot be pursued from a sincere 
desire to glorify God; and no man should enter the 
church who is not prepared to sacrifice his profession, and 
his calling if it be a scandal and a disgrace to the Chris. 
nan name. 



SERMON XII. 

THE PRINCIPLES ON WHICH A PROFESSION OF RELIGION 
SHOULD BE MADE. NO. 2. 

2 Cor. vi. IT, 18. Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye 
separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing ; and I will re- 
ceive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and 
daughters, saith the Lord Almighty. 

In the previous discourse I stated some of the princi- 
ples on which a profession of religion should be made. 

I propose now to resume the subject, and to state some 
other principles which should direct us in the perform- 
ance of this duty. 

IV. The fourth principle is, that we should come into 
the church with a fixed and settled purpose to do our 
whole duty as it may be made known to us by God. I 
mean by this, that we should not flinch from any duty, 
however arduous ; we should not shrink back from it 
because it will demand personal sacrifice, or because it 
will bring upon us the scorn or the opposition of the 
world, or because it may be attended with pecuniary 
loss, or because it may expose us to a martyr's death. 

It is scarcely necessary to attempt to prove that this is 
involved in the purpose to make a profession of religion. 
What is religion ? It is doing the will of God. And he 
who professes religion, professes his solemn purpose to 
do the will of God, and not his own. When Saul of , 
Tarsus was converted, one of the first questions which he 
asked was, « Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ?" Acts 
ix. 6. The governing purpose of his soul was changed, 
and it became henceforth a characteristic of the man that 
he engaged unceasingly in doing the will of God. And 
how is it possible that a man can be a Christian who does 
not ? Can he be a Christian who enters the church intend- 
ing to do his duty or not, as he pleases ; resolving to be 
guided by caprice, or fashion, or self-indulgence, or am- 
bition, or pleasure, rather than by the solemn convictions 

180 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 181 

of duty ? Can a man be a Christian who has no settled 
conviction of what is right and what is wrong ; who 
makes no distinction between truth and falsehood ; who 
has no such views of God's government as to lead him 
to submit to him ? Is such a man prepared publicly to 
profess that he is influenced by a supreme regard to the 
will of God ? To ask these questions is to answer them. 
There can be no two ways of thinking about them, 
however many ways there may be of acting. 

Instead, therefore, of attempting to demonstrate what 
will be conceded by all, I shall assume that a man who 
enters the church not intending to do his whole duty, has 
no right views of the nature of the Christian profession. 
And assuming this, I shall proceed to specify some of the 
acknowledged duties which will be incumbent on him. 

One is, to repair, as far as possible, the evils of his for- 
mer life. Many of those evils, indeed, cannot now be 
repaired. If a man has been a blasphemer, and a con- 
temner of the divine commands, he can make no repara- 
tion to God. His only course in respect to these sins is to 
humble himself in dust and ashes, and seek for pardon 
through the blood of the Redeemer. In like manner for 
many of the evils which he has done to men, he can 
now make no reparation. The parent whom he diso- 
beyed when a child may be dead, and he cannot now 
ask his forgiveness, or repay the disregarded and abused 
kindness of the father or the mother. The neighbor 
whom he slandered, or whose property he took away 
by fraud, may be dead also. The man who was killed by 
the intoxicating liquor which he sold may be dead, and 
his children, impoverished and degraded, may be so far 
ruined in their character, that he cannot repair the evils 
which he has done them. For these, and all similar offences, 
he can. only humble himself before God, and resolve, 
by a different life, to repair as far as possible the evils 
done to the community at large. The individuals may 
be beyond your reach, but an injured community is 
not, and is as much to be benefitted by your active life 
in holiness, as it has been injured by your active life of 
sin. But there are other cases. The man whom you 
may have corrupted by your infidelity, blasphemy, or 

is 



1S2 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

sensuality, may live, and you may be the means of re- 
claiming him. The man whom you may have slandered 
may still live, and to him you may make penitent con- 
fession of your error. The man that you defrauded may 
be alive, and you are bound to restore, with penitent ac- 
knowledgments, that of which you deprived him. You 
failed in business. You made an assignment. You com- 
pounded with your creditors ; and they released you, and 
the law released you. But you are now in circumstances 
of comfort or affluence — able to pay all. Will your con- 
science be released because the law released you ? Are 
you free from moral obligation to pay what you owe, 
because the law has cancelled the legal obligation ? You 
had their property. You used it. It was by no fault of 
theirs that it was lost — and they, one and all, suffered by 
it. You have the means of restoring it. What will good 
faith require of a man thus circumstanced ? And why 
shall not he who has now the power restore all, so that 
he may feel that in conscience and in law he owes no 
man any thing ? At a period of life when men usually 
begin to look for relaxation and ease, Sir Walter Scott 
failed, and was burdened with a debt of nearly half a 
million of dollars. To pay it he had nothing but his pen. 
How many men — professors of religion, too, I fear — 
would have sat down in despair. Not so he. He refused 
even the aid of his friends. < This right hand,' said he, 
< shall pay it' — and night and day he toiled till mind and 
body, crushed together, sunk under the noble effort to 
pay every man that he owed. What an example to men 
bearing the Christian name, who, in the unavoidable 
transactions of business, are unable to pay their creditors ! 
What a reproach to him who can continue to live in afflu- 
ence unconcerned, and who feels that all is done where 
the law has pronounced him discharged ! 

Again. In the purpose to do his whole duty will be 
involved the purpose to lead a life of prayer. I refer 
now to secret prayer. Most persons when they are 
about to make a profession of religion, practice secret 
prayer. If their minds are deeply impressed, and they 
feel that they are sinners, they pray of course. And 
even if they practice a deception on others or on them- 
selves, there is such an obvious impropriety in making a 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 183 

profession ot religion without any prayer, that they then, 
if at no other time, call upon God. But at the same time 
it is easy to conceive that this may be regarded as an 
extraordinary duty, and that they have no serious inten- 
tion to continue to practice it to any considerable extent 
after they shall have been admitted to the church. Now, 
my remark is, that if there is any such secret purpose, a 
profession of religion should not be made, for it is clear 
that a man who does not in good faith practice secret 
prayer, cannot be a pious man. " When thou prayest," 
said the Saviour, " enter into thy closet, and when thou 
hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret." 
Matth. vi. 6. " Pray without ceasing," "in everything 
by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your 
requests be made known unto God," are among the most 
positive commands of the Bible. It would be easy to 
demonstrate that this is a duty. But this is not my de- 
sign. My remark is, that a man who comes into the 
church not prepared to take from his worldly business as 
much time every day as shall be necessary, with a good 
conscience to keep up the life of religion in the heart ; 
to meet the temptations to which he is exposed, and to 
walk with God, cannot be a pious man, and should not 
approach the Lord's supper. Unless he loves his closet ; 
unless he prefers it to any place of amusement, of busi- 
ness, or of gain ; any pursuit of science, literature, or am- 
bition, he may have much that is amiable, and kind, and 
fascinating, but he has no evidence that he is a pious 
man. For evidence of piety will be better found in the 
persevering practice of secret devotion, than in the most 
noisy profession, and in the most public proclamation of 
a purpose to serve God. 

The same thing is true of those whose duty would 
lead them to the practice of family prayer. The general 
principle is, that a man should honestly intend to dis- 
charge his whole duty. My remark now is, that if he 
is not prepared to summon his family around him, and 
worship God by leading them to the throne of grace, he 
is not prepared to make a profession of religion. It 
would be too long to go into a proof on this point now. 
A remark or two must suffice. What will be your influ- 
ence in your family if this is not done ? The truth is, that 



1S4 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

there is such an instinctive sense of the propriety of 
family devotion in every household, that where this is 
not done, all other influence of a religious kind is neu- 
tralized. A child knows that a father who professes to 
be a Christian should worship God in his own dwelling. 
To him it is inexplicable that he does not do it. He 
learns, you can hardly tell how, that those who are sin- 
cere and eminent Christians, do offer the morning and 
evening sacrifice to God. And he has no way of account- 
ing for the fact that you do not do it except on the sup- 
position that you have less religion — a supposition that 
approximates very rapidly to the conclusion that you 
have none. And what man can expect the divine bless- 
ing on his family ; who can expect peace in his own 
bosom, who is living in the habitual and constant neglect 
of a known duty ? How can a man come and partake of 
the emblems of a Saviour's body, who at the very time 
knows that he is daily neglecting a positive requirement 
of God, and who is resolving to persevere in the neglect? 

Again. The purpose to do our whole duty will extend 
to all the relations of life. It will extend to the intention 
to be a Christian, and to act like a Christian, wherever, 
in the providence of God, we may be placed. Whether 
in the relation of parent or child : of husband or wife ; 
of brother or sister ; of master or servant ; of employer 
or apprentice, or clerk, in all these relations there will be 
the solemn and fixed purpose to do our whole duty, and 
to adorn religion there. In any situation in which we 
may be placed, there will be the design to live and act 
as the Saviour did. And if there is an intention to lay 
aside the severer restraints of religion ; to mingle in 
scenes of gaity and vanity that are contrary to the most 
strict obligations of Christianity; to go away from the 
sanctuary and to be as gay, as volatile, as ambitious, 
and as fond of dress and amusement as the people of the 
world are, the case is clear, whatever else you may do, 
you should never approach the table of communion. 

V. A fifth general principle is, that we are to come 
resolving that we will be as eminent Christians as possi- 
ble, or that we will make as much of our religion as we 
possibly can make of it. My meaning is, that we should 
" make full proof of the power of the gospel to sane- 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 185 

tify the soul ; that we should not come intending merely 
to he a member of the church; nor merely to reach 
heaven, but intending that whatever there is of purify- 
ing power, whatever there is of consolation, whatever 
there is of the fulness of hope in the gospel should be 
ours. One of the resolutions of President Edward's, adopt- 
ed in early life, was in these words : " On the supposition 
that there never was but one individual in the world, at 
any time, who was properly a complete Christian in all 
respects of a right stamp, having Christianity always 
shining in its true lustre, and appearing excellent and 
lovely, from whatever part and under whatever charac- 
ter viewed : Resolved, to act just as I would do, if I strove 
with all my might to be that one who should live in my 
time." Nor do I see how any one can be prepared to 
make a profession of religion who does not adopt sub- 
stantially that resolution. No commands of the New 
Testament are more positive than those which require us 
not only to aim at perfection, but to be perfect. " Be ye, 
therefore, perfect," said the Saviour, " as your Father in 
heaven is perfect." Matth. v. 48. "As he which hath 
called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conver- 
sation." 1 Pet. i. 15. The idea is that he who makes a 
profession of religion should resolve to be as holy as pos- 
sible ; to be as dead to the world as possible ; to be as 
eminent, in love to God and in love to man, in prayer, 
and faith, and humility, and self-denial as he possibly 
can be. 

To dwell on this head in the way of proof, would be 
useless. I may just add, however, that if a man wishes 
either comfort or usefulness in the church, he can obtain 
either only in this way. No man ever arrived at any 
eminence either in moral character, or in any profession, 
who had not such a singleness of aim. " If thine eye 
be single thy whole body shall be full of light ; but if 
thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of dark- 
ness." Matth. vi. 22. The reason why there is so little 
comfort, peace, joy, and usefulness among the professed 
friends of Christ, is, that they never came into the church 
with any unity of aim ; or if they did, they soon aban- 
doned it. To be a Christian ; to live a life of piety ; to 
be holy, was only one of many plans which they formed ; 
16* 



186 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

and one, alas ! which has been often compelled to give 
way to others. For it often happens, that of all the plans 
and purposes which professed Christians form, those of 
their religion are the most flexible and yielding. The 
laws of fashionable life, at any expense of time, or mo- 
ney, or ease, must be conformed to. The laws which 
govern them in their attempts to become rich and honor- 
ed, are to be conformed to. If there is to be any yielding, 
the laws of their religion are to be made to give way. If 
any time is taken for any new project, it is time taken 
from their closets rather than their counting-rooms ; and 
the devotions of the family are abridged rather than the 
pleasures of the evening party. If, in the pressure of 
hard times, there is any curtailment of expenses requi- 
site, the curtailment is made in the matters of benevo- 
lence, and the cause of Christ first suffers. Meantime 
the splendid mansion, and the carriage, and the retinue 
of servants, and the gay apparel, and the gorgeous furni- 
ture are kept as long as they can be ; but the channels 
of benevolence are dry, and sympathy for the cause of a 
dying world is suddenly extinguished. With such the 
least stable of all laws are those of the New Testament ; 
the most firm are those which control the fashionable and 
the business world. Now, what I am wishing to say is 
this : That he who comes into the church intending that 
in any unexpected emergency the first acts of retrench- 
ment shall be made on his religion ; that his piety shall 
be perpetually giving way to the laws of fashionable 
life, of politics, of gain, and of honor ; that all abridg- 
ments of time shall be taken from his times of prayer, 
and of reading the Bible, and of proper religious duty, 
knows nothing about religion, and should not presume 
to approach the emblems of a Saviour's death. The 
only things in this world that are to be stem, inflexible, 
unchanging, and eternal, are the principles of religion ; 
and where they are not. so regarded, whether in the church 
or out of it, there is an utter destitution of the principles 
of true love to the Redeemer. Heaven and earth are to 
pass away, but the laws of Christ are not to pass away. 
VI. A sixth principle which I state on which we 
should make a profession of religion is, that we should 
be the warm and decided friends of revivals. I mean 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 187 

by this, not only that we should be the friends of reli- 
gion in general, and of its advancement — which every 
man who makes any pretensions to piety must be — but 
that we should be the advocates and friends of the extra- 
ordinary manifestations of the grace of God when num- 
bers are simultaneously converted to the Saviour. I do 
not deny that religion is to make advances in the world 
by other modes than by revivals ; nor do I affirm, by any 
means, that we are to undervalue any influences, how- 
ever feeble, that tend to the promotion of true piety on 
the earth. But this is what I mean. The gospel is fitted 
to produce a deep and far-spreading simultaneous influ- 
ence on the minds of men. It is a fact that such an in- 
fluence often descends from heaven and pervades a com- 
munity, and that a sense of the importance of religion 
spreads from heart to heart, and the power of sympathy 
is excited, and many come simultaneously to the cross. 
It is a fact that the Saviour promised such blessings, and 
that on the day of Pentecost the Spirit of God descended 
with such power, and that thousands were converted. 
And it is a fact that if this world is ever converted to 
God ; if this land is saved from infidelity, and Sabbath- 
breaking, and licentiousness, and profaneness, it must be 
by such scenes as were witnessed on the day of Pente- 
cost. I have no other hope of the prevalence and exten- 
sion of religion and purity on earth than by revivals of 
religion. Of this age they have been the glory ; striking 
deeper and farther onward into all that is valuable in our 
prospects for the future, than any or than all other means 
that have been adopted to bless our country. 

Now men enter the church with very various feelings 
in regard to these manifestations of the grace of God. 
Some have never witnessed such displays of his mercy, 
and have no settled opinion in regard to them. Some 
look on the whole subject with distrust, and have no de- 
sire to witness them. Some associate them with scenes 
of disorder and fanaticism ; regard them as the result of 
an overheated imagination, and as tending to unsettle all 
that is fixed and permanent. Some regard them as the 
sluices of error and extravagance, and deem them to be 
the mere production of human measures and machinery. 
The ignorance of many in the church on this subject is 



188 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

to be pitied rather than to be regarded as a subject of 
reproach. But the opposition which is often made de- 
serves other language than that which merely describes 
ignorance. The apathy of the churches in regard to re- 
vivals is one of the most melancholy features of the times 
in which we live. 

The position which I wish now to be understood as 
taking is, that no one should make a profession of religion 
unless he is prepared to give his prayers, and toils, and 
honest efforts to a promotion of a pure revival of religion. 
He is not to come into the church to speak of such scenes 
as disorder and confusion ; he is not to come to complain 
of the preaching which the Holy Ghost usually blesses to 
this end ; he is not to come to take side with the wicked 
world in characterizing such scenes as that on the day of 
Pentecost as extravagance and wild-fire ; he is not to 
come to impede any honest and well-meant effort to pro- 
mote the salvation of souls. Not for such purposes is he to 
come into the church of Jesus Christ— for in all churches 
there are enough such already. We need other men. 
ine churches need other professors of religion. There 
must be other professors of religion— those who will 
heartily, and prayerfully, and continually seek a revival 
of the work of God. And if such is your state of mind 
that you could not in all honesty and heartiness join in 
the prayer that the church might witness such a scene as 
that on the day of Pentecost; if you would be alarmed, 
or would shrink back at the prospect of the simultaneous 
conversion of hundreds and thousands in a brief period 
ot time ; if you would call it extravagance and enthu- 
siasm, and join with the wicked and say, « these men are 
filled with new wine," then it is manifest that you are not 
prepared to make a profession of religion. Jesus Christ 
needs no allies who would deride the work of the day of 

and dfsorden ^^ C ° nSider * &S * SCene ° f tU ™ uIt 

But what I have now said expresses very feebly what 
I wish to say It is not merely that you are not to\ZTe 
such a work but it is that you would heartily desireT 
and pray and labor for it. The sum of what I won d 
say is, that mall our churches we need-we greatly need 
-those who in the fulness of an overflowing hear can 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 189 

say, " Lord, revive thy work, in the midst of the years 
make known, in wrath remember mercy ;" those who 
for " Zion's sake will not hold their peace, and who for Je- 
rusalem's sake cannot rest, until the righteousness thereof 
go forth as brightness, and the salvation thereof as a lamp 
that burneth." Why should a man enter the house of 
God to impede in any way the work of salvation ? And 
if you are not prepared to stand forth as the advocate of 
revivals of religion ; if you are not prepared to give your 
influence to promote them ; if you are not prepared to sus- 
tain a pastor in such preaching and efforts as are adapted 
to produce them ; if you cannot be depended on, should 
God in his mercy visit his people with the descending 
blessings of salvation like floods and torrents, then you 
have not a spirit adopted to the exigency of the times in 
which you live ; you bring not the aid which the church 
needs in this time of her history." 

VII. A seventh principle which I state is, that you 
should enter the church as a warm and decided friend of 
any and every proper plan for the salvation of the world. 
For what did the Redeemer organize the church ? What 
purpose did he contemplate by continuing it as an organ- 
ized body from age to age ? Not for its own ease ; not 
primarily and principally that its members might be pre- 
pared for heaven. When converted they are prepared for 
heaven, and if they should then die, they would be saved; 
and heaven is a higher place of comfort than the church 
here, and better fitted to purify the soul than all the advan- 
tages which we can here enjoy. The design for which he 
keeps them here he has stated. " Go ye into all the world 
and preach the gospel to every creature." Christ contem- 
plates the conversion of this whole world to himself. 
There is not a nation or a people which he does not intend 
to subjugate to his law. The distant tribes of men are to 
learn his name, and to hear the sound of his gospel ; and the 
instrumentality by which that is to be effected is his church. 

Every individual who becomes connected with the 
church should sympathize with Jesus Christ in his pur- 
pose to save the world. He should be of course a friend 
of every feasible plan to extend the influence of religion ; 
he should regard his time, and influence, and wealth, as 
all the property of God the Saviour, to be employed in 



190 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

whatever way he shall direct. In all societies he should 
he prepared to advocate the plans of benevolence ; at all 
times he should rejoice in the opportunity of befriending 
every scheme that goes to alleviate human misery, and 
to elevate man to the favor of God. It should not be 
forced, constrained, unwilling; but he should be just as 
willing to sacrifice his time and property to benefit 
the world as Jesus Christ was to sacrifice comfort and 
life to save us. Why should he not be ? He should be 
just as willing, if need be, to cross oceans amidst priva- 
tions and wants to benefit the perishing as the apostle 
Paul was. Why should he not be ? 

It needs no great acquaintance with the church to see 
that all are not so. And it needs but little observation to 
see the effect when they are not so. When members of 
the church are more penurious in regard to the objects of 
Christian benevolence than are the men of the world ; 
when you can more certainly calculate on a liberal bene- 
faction for the circulation of the Bible and the spread of 
the gospel from a man who makes no pretension to reli- 
gion than from a professed Christian ; when a member 
of the church joins with its foes in finding fault with the 
plans of Christian benevolence, in exaggerating the errors 
of those engaged in this work, in throwing obstacles in the 
way ; when they look with unconcern on the whole enter- 
prize of saving man ; when they have thousands to lavish 
on their dwellings, their dress, their furniture, their equip- 
age, their children, and nothing to give to that Redeemer 
who died for men ; or when they can find it in their heart 
to lavish on a splendid entertainment their wealth with- 
out limit or bound and turn away coldly from the plead- 
ings of a perishing world for aid, whatever may be the 
estimate in which they will be held finally by the Master 
before whom they must stand or fall, it is impossible not 
to see the effect which it must have in regard to the sal- 
vation of the world. There are devoted men with as 
complete a right to earthly comforts as we have, who 
have forsaken all, and who labor amidst many discourage- 
ments in heathen lands to bring them to God. And that 
which their hearts must most deeply feel is, the coldness 
and indifference with which their enterprize is regarded 
by many of the professed friends of their common Lord. 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 191 

Now we need not so much accession of numbers to the 
churches as those who shall enter heartily into the work 
of the world's redemption. Nothing is gained to the cause 
of Christ— as nothing is gained to himself— when a man 
enrols himself among the professed friends of the Saviour 
only to be a clog and a burden on the chariot wheels of 
salvation ;— a man doing his duty only when it coincides 
with his own interest ; who habitually neglects secret and 
family worship ; who means to have only religion enough 
to make him respectable and to take him to heaven ; who 
has no friendship for revivals of religion, and who doubts 
about them or opposes them ; who stands aloof from the 
plans of Christian benevolence, and who coolly sees a 
world unpitied going down to hell. Such a man sheds 
a blight on any church, and on all accounts should retain 
his connexion with the world. Let him not deceive him- 
self, or attempt to deceive God and his fellow-men, by 
enrolling his name among the friends of the Redeemer. 
Other helpers are needed than these. The church must 
have other friends or it will be ruined ; the world must 
have other helpers or it will never be converted to God. 

Finally, I would observe that if the remarks which 
have now been made, and which were made in the pre- 
vious discourse, are correct, then we have arrived at the 
conclusion that the profession of religion is much more 
than a form and a name. To make such a profession is 
a step not to be entered on without thought, and without 
a most thorough acquaintance with ourselves. Our prin- 
ciples should be understood. The reasons which prompt 
us to it should be known. The object at which we aim 
should be seen. The stand which we take should be de- 
cided. And it should be taken with such clear views, 
and such firm convictions, that we should be able to 
maintain our position amidst all the frowns, the contempt, 
and the opposition which we may meet with. 

On the ground of these views and principles, we may 
exhort you to make a profession of religion. It the act 
were what many seem to suppose ; if it imposed no solemn 
obligations and implied no settled principles m regard to 
the course of life ; if it was merely the change of a name 
and of external relations; if it were to come into the 
church and pass the life in spiritual repose and indolence, 



192 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

then I should feel no interest in exhorting any man to 
make a profession of religion, and you would feel that it 
was a matter of no consequence whether it was or was 
not done. It would be a matter too insignificant to excite 
any solicitude ; and the whole subject might be dismissed 
without concern. And one reason, as I apprehend, why so 
few make a profession, is, that it is felt by them to be a 
matter of little importance, implying a slight change of 
purpose, and not connected with any great and important 
principles. I do not conceal the fact that I hope by the 
representation which I have made to deter from this act 
those who would come into the church only to be an in- 
cumbrance when there ; but I have also desired to show 
you that it is an act which demands solemn purpose, and 
profound thought, and much prayer, and which is worth 
an effort. We need none, we ask none, to come among us 
who are not prepared to consecrate themselves in the 
self-denials of a holy life to the Son of God ; none who 
will not every where and always have the humility, 
the self-denial, the heavenly-mindedness, the ever burning 
zeal, the universal benevolence of the Lord Jesus Christ. 



SERMON XIII. 

ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. NO. I. 

Phil. iii. 18. For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now 
tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ. 

Are we true Christians ? is the most important ques- 
tion which can be asked in relation to ourselves. It is a 
question which may be examined with the utmost atten- 
tion without danger of injury. True piety, like gold, 
will bear any test that can be applied, and will be all 
the brighter and purer for it, and no sincere Christian need 
be alarmed b}^ any examination of his religion, however 
rigid or severe. If our religion is not genuine it should 
be examined by the strictest tests, and when believed to 
be false it should be honestly abandoned. 

It is evident that the persons referred to in the text 
were professors of religion. The term "walk" is com- 
monly used in the New Testament to denote Christian 
conduct ; and the undoubted meaning of the text is, that 
there were many persons in the church at Philippi — pure 
and noble as that church was in the main, who professed 
to be Christians, but who showed by their deportment 
that they were real enemies of the religion which they 
professed. The " Cross of Christ" is an emphatic phrase 
to denote the Christian religion. As the sacrifice on the 
cross constituted the very essence of Christianity, the 
term came to denote the Christian religion itself. It is 
here used, perhaps, also to show more emphatically the 
apostle's view of the extreme heinousness of the offence, 
that, while they professed to be Christians, they were in 
fact the enemies of the very peculiarity of the Christian 
religion. 

Of the existence of such strangers to religion in the 

church, Paul had been long aware. Of their character, 

and of their fearful doom he had told them often. He 

now again reminded them, with tears, of the melancholy 

17 193 



194 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

truth. He used not towards them the language of harsh 
and angry denunciation. He did not hold them up to 
public scorn and indignation. He did not attempt to 
wound their feelings by satire, or to overwhelm them with 
harsh invective. He was too deeply impressed with their 
guilt and their danger to do this. He knew that the way 
to reclaim the deceived and the erring was not to de- 
nounce them with harshness, but to entreat them with 
tears. Kindness accomplishes what severity cannot do, — 
as, in the fabled strife between the sun and the north wind, 
the sun with gentle and warming beams removes the 
cloak which the north wind could not strip away by vio- 
lence. The language of tenderness will find its way 
with reforming power to the heart, where the words of 
harsh rebuke would tend only to irritate and confirm in 
error. Paul felt also, probably, as every minister of the 
gospel should, that it little becomes a dying mortal, con- 
scious of many imperfections and much liability to self- 
deception himself, to use the language of harsh denuncia- 
tion when speaking to others. Conscious imperfection 
will speak tenderly of the faults of others, and will weep 
rather than denounce when there is need of speaking of 
the errors and dangers of professed Christians. 

From the words of the text, the following points of 
remark are naturally suggested. 

I. There is reason to believe that many professors of 
religion are the real enemies of the cross of Christ. 

II. What are the characteristics of that enmity ; or how 
may it be determined that they are the enemies of the 
cross of Christ ? and 

III. Why is the fact of their being in the church fitted 
to produce grief and tears? 

I. The first proposition is, that there is reason to believe 
that many professors of religion are the real enemies of 
the cross of Christ. The proof on this head might be 
drawn from what we know of the deceitfulness of the 
heart; the numerous cautions against deception in the 
Scriptures ; and from the case of Judas among the apos- 
tles, and other instances specified in the New Testament. 
I choose, however, rather to rest the whole proof of this 
point on the account which the Lord Jesus has himself 
given of the condition of the church in the two instruc- 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 195 

tive parables of the tares of the field, and of the net 
cast into the sea. " The kingdom of heaven is likened 
unto a man which sowed good seed in his field : but while 
men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the 
wheat, and went his way. But when the blade was 
sprung up, and brought forth fruit, then appeared the tares 
also. So the servants of the householder came and said 
unto him, Sir, didst not thou sow good seed in thy field? 
from whence then hath it tares ? He said unto them, 
An enemy hath done this. The servants said unto him, 
Wilt thou then that we go and gather them up ? But he 
said, Nay ; lest while ye gather up the tares, ye root up 
also the wheat with them. Let both grow together until 
the harvest : and in the time of harvest, I will say to the 
reapers, Gather ye together first the tares, and bind them 
in bundles to burn them ; but gather ye the wheat into 
my barn." Matth. xiii. 24 — 30. " Again : the kingdom 
of heaven is like unto a net that was cast into the sea, and 
gathered of every kind : which when it was full, they 
drew to shore, and sat down, and gathered the good into 
vessels, but cast the bad away. So shall it be at the end 
of the world : the angels shall come forth, and sever the 
wicked from among the just ; and shall cast them into 
the furnace of fire." Matth. xiii. 47 — 50. 

That our Saviour meant to teach in these parables that 
there would be many who would profess his name who 
would be strangers to him, there can be no doubt. — 
The same thing he affirmed in his account of the trans- 
actions of the day of judgment. Matth. vii. 21 — 23: 
" Not every one that shall call unto me, Lord, Lord, shall 
enter into the kingdom of heaven. Many will say unto 
me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in 
thy name ? and in thy name cast out devils, and in thy 
name done many wonderful works ? And then will I pro- 
fess unto them, 1 never knew you." 

It is not my purpose to dwell on this part of our sub- 
ject. I wish simply to place the proof of the fact before 
our own minds as furnishing a reason for whatever ear- 
nestness I may evince in urging the language of the 
Bible, " Be not deceived." I may just observe, however, 
in passing, (1.) That Christianity is not responsible for the 



196 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

hypocrites' or self-deceived professors that may be at any 
time in the bosom of the church. Religion does not pro- 
duce or countenance hypocrisy. No book more decidedly 
condemns it than the New Testament ; no person ever 
did it with more severity than the Saviour. The Christian 
religion should no more be held answerable for hypocrisy, 
than friendship is for false professions, or the patriotism 
of Washington, for the treason of Arnold. (2.) The 
Christian religion does not stand alone in this. There are 
men who make professions of friendship which are false ; 
men who make professions of patriotism which are false ; 
men who make professions of honesty, temperance, 
chastity, and honor, which are false, as well as men who 
profess religion who are false. If our revolution pro- 
duced a Washington, it produced also an Arnold ; and if 
great and trying times have produced patriots who would 
shed their blood for their country, they have produced 
men also who would sell their country for gold. (3.) We 
claim for Christianity only the good which it has done. 
We point to the sinners whom it has reformed ; to the 
vicious whom it has reclaimed ; to the proud whom it 
has humbled ; to the virtues which it has created and 
cherished, and to its influence on the morals and the des- 
tiny of mankind, as the proof of its power. We claim 
not for it the " tares" which have been sown in the field. 
" An enemy hath done this." Patriotism may speak of 
its achievements, and of the heroic virtues which it has 
summoned forth and sustained, but it is not to be charged 
with the crimes which under the name of love of country 
have aimed a vital stab at liberty. (4.) We ask that, on this 
subject, the language of discrimination and justice should 
be used. We have no wish to screen the hypocrite, or 
to be apologists for deceit. We ask that Christianity 
should not be held answerable for what it has not contri- 
buted to produce and foster. And we especially desire 
that the facts to which we are now adverting should not 
be made the occasion of the ruin of the soul. It will be 
a poor compensation for the loss of the soul to reflect that 
many were deceived in the church, and, to be able to 
prove, if you are lost, that your most sanguine calcula- 
tions of the number of hypocrites was correct, or fell 
short of the reality. Such a reminiscence in the world 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 197 

of wo will not constitute even the " single drop of water" 
that shall be needed to cool the parched tongue. It will 
be no alleviation to your sorrows or mine, that others 
were deceived ; and to prove that they have gone to hell 
will constitute no passport for us to heaven. 

II. My second object was to show how we may deter- 
mine when those who profess religion are the enemies of 
the cross of Christ. 

The great importance of this enquiry, and the neces- 
sity of obtaining discriminating views on it, will consti- 
tute the apology for all the attention which I shall ask to 
this head of the discourse. 

The modes in which we discern the existence of 
hostility are the following. (1.) When it is avowed 
and declared, as between nations at war, or individuals 
engaged in contention and strife. (2.) It may be evinced 
by neglecting to manifest friendship in circumstances 
fitted to test the character, and to bring out the real 
principles. In a nation, if all are summoned to its de- 
fence, and a part neglect or refuse to come to its aid, 
their real principles cannot be a matter of doubt. The 
danger of the nation may be so imminent, that a neglect 
to act is in fact an indication of hostile feelings. (3.) 
It is evinced by failing to manifest the characteristic 
spirit of friendship. If we are in distress, and a pro- 
fessed friend could aid us, but will not ; if we are hungry, 
and he will not feed us ; if we are thirsty, and he will 
not give us drink ; if we are naked, and he will not 
clothe us ; if we are sick and in prison, and he will 
not visit us ; if our affairs are in danger of bankruptcy, 
and he will not help us ; if we are dying, and he will not 
come near us to moisten our parched lips, or to close our 
eyes in death, we have no doubt about the nature of his 
professed friendship ; — for these are the scenes which 
determine the reality of affection. (4.) It is evinced 
where the professed friend is found coinciding in his plans 
and feelings with those of an enemy ; where the course 
of life he leads is such as to throw no obstacle in the way 
of our antagonist, but is such as rather to facilitate his 
plans; and where he refuses to lend his aid to us, to 
cripple the efforts and to embarrass the movements of the 
foe. If our professed friends find all our schemes and 
17* 



198 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

movements only embarrass theirs ; if we have no sym- 
pathy with them, and are always found doubting the 
wisdom of their plans, and suggesting errors and evils ; 
if we have no plans of our own to propose, but live only 
to suggest doubt about the expediency of those adopted 
by them, it proves that our real sympathies are not with 
them, but with their foes. (5.) If we are secretly aiding 
and abetting an enemy, it shows that we are really in his 
interest. If we are suggesting the counsels which he 
would suggest, if we are forming the plans which he 
would form ; if we are throwing embarrassments where 
he would do it, it shows that we are really advancing 
his cause. Further. There are often decisive moments 
— the crises of events — where a slight circumstance will 
determine the scale on one side or the other. If, in those 
trying times, when every man is expected to be found at 
his post, we are found in ever so small a matter abetting 
an enemy, it shows that we are under his influence and 
control. A word or a single action may often do more 
to decide the character and determine the real feelings in 
the crisis of a battle than the conduct of many hours and 
months in a time of peace. (6.) The character is often 
suddenly developed by some circumstance which shows 
what it is. Some strong temptation brings out the true 
feelings of the soul, and shows what is the real object of 
attachment, while the general course of the life may have 
been apparently otherwise. Such was the case in the 
instances of Achan and Judas. In the comparatively 
monotonous scenes of life, the profession may be uniform 
and fair, and nothing may occur that shall determine the 
true feelings of the soul. For it is not the uniformity of 
the profession that determines character ; it is the crisis, 
the moment of intense interest, the period when all the 
real principles of the life are rallied and exhibited, that 
constitutes the true criterion of the character. 

Our object is to ascertain how we may determine whe- 
ther we are the friends or the enemies of the cross of 
Christ. Applying these obvious principles for determin- 
ing the characteristics of friendship or enmity, I shall now 
call your attention to several particulars which may aid 
us in deciding this momentous question. I observe, then, 

(1.) That those are the enemies of the cross of Christ 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 199 

in the church who have not been born again. The proof 
of this is brief, but unquestionable. For, " the carnal 
mind is enmity with God," and men are by nature " dead 
in trespasses and in sins," and unrenewed men are " the 
children of the wicked one." There are but two spiritual 
empires in this world — the kingdom of light, and the 
kingdom of darkness ; the empire over which God rules, 
and the empire over which Satan is the absolute monarch. 
They who are not the subjects of the one, are the sub- 
jects of the other ; and they who have not, by the new 
birth, been translated out of the " kingdom of darkness 
into the kingdom of God's dear Son," are still the sub- 
jects of the enemy of man. God is building up a king- 
dom on the earth ; and it is done by a change in character, 
and views, and feelings, the most momentous and tho- 
rough that the mind ever undergoes. In the Bible it is 
designated as " life from the dead," and as a " new crea- 
tion 5" and it is impossible that this change should take 
place and no evidence be furnished of it ; or that it should 
occur and produce no dhference in the life. Can the 
vegetable world again bloom with beauty in the return- 
ing spring after the long death of winter, and give no evi- 
dence of life ? Can the buds open, and the flowers blos- 
som, and the grass carpet the earth, and yet all be as 
cold and sterile as in the winter ? Could the now pale, 
and stiff, and mouldering corpses under ground leave 
their graves and come forth, and yet there be no evidence 
of life ? Could the sun rise suddenly at midnight, and 
shed his beams on the dark world, and there be no evi- 
dence of the mighty change ? And can a sinner dead in 
sins be quickened into life by the power of God's Spirit, 
and still there be no life ? Can the powers of the soul, 
long torpid and chill in the dreary winter of sin, be 
warmed and animated with the love of God, and no one 
know it ? Can the pure light of the Sun of righteousness 
pour its beams into the soul darkened by sin, and all be 
as benighted as ever ? Can the slave in sin be set at liber- 
ty ; can the gospel touch his shackles, and his limbs feel 
the manly impulse of the freedom of the sons of God, 
and he continue to feel and act as if he were still a slave ? 
Can the poor maniac be restored to his right mind ; the 
wandering eye of the lunatic become settled and calm, 



200 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

and no one know it ? Can he who has all his life hated 
eternal and infinite excellence, be brought to love it, and 
the soul itself be ignorant of the amazing transformation? 
And can he who has despised the cross, and trampled the 
blood of the covenant beneath his feet, embrace that cross 
as the only foundation of his hope of heaven, and yet 
give so dubious indications of the change that no one 
shall know it, or suspect it from his conduct ? 

Herein is the origin of all our leanness. I verily be- 
lieve that the true source of the coldness and deadness of 
professing Christians is to be found in low and inadequate 
views of the nature of conversion to God. We linger at 
the threshold of life. We have not yet settled the great 
point whether there is such a thing as regeneration, or 
whether " there be any Holy Ghost." Multitudes have 
no correct views of the great change which takes place 
when the soul is renewed, nor have they any belief of 
the truth which the Bible reveals on that subject. They 
speak of seriousness, instead of regeneration. They 
talk of being thoughtful, instead of being converted. 
They have some indistinct image of an external work, 
while the Bible describes it as passing from death to life. 
They seem to suppose that the act of becoming connected 
with the church is to be attended with a breaking off 
from some open sins ; that they are to take their leave of 
the grosser forms of iniquity, and that they are, for the 
time at least, to give themselves to increased seriousness. 
But do they speak of a mighty, thorough, transforming 
change, as the Bible does ? Have they any sympathy 
with the description of the new birth in the New Testa- 
ment ? Know they any thing of compunction for sin ; of 
grief that they are poor, and polluted before God ; of the 
joys of pardon ; of the new views of the glory and 
grandeur of the divine character as now seen in the Son of 
God? Is there a new heart; a new life ; a new conver- 
sation ? Are there new hopes ; new joys ; new objects of 
pursuit? Or is there amidst the seriousness some plan for 
compromising matters with God, and an enquiry even 
then how the hold on the world may be continued? Is 
there still a purpose, while the decencies of the Christian 
profession shall be maintained, to grasp still as much of 
the world as possible ; to pray as little as possible ; to be 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 201 

as gay, and as fashionable, and as happy in the world as 
may possibly consist with the Christian profession ? I 
tremble when I think of a man just entering on the pro- 
fessed Christian life, endeavoring to make a compromise 
with God, and a league with the world ; attempting to 
make light and darkness, and heaven and hell meet 
together. 

Here, I repeat it, is the source of our difficulties. It 
consists in low, and unscriptural, and unsatisfactory views 
of conversion to God. And the influence of those views 
spreads through all the life, and moulds the character. But 
the truth of the Scriptures on this point is plain. There 
is no religion where there has been no conversion ; and 
if in our personal experience we have not known what 
the Saviour meant by the new birth, our hopes of heaven 
are built on the sand. If his language on this subject is 
to us mysticism or fanaticism ; if we do not know what 
is meant by the new creation, and by the life from the 
dead, and by the love of God shed abroad in the heart, 
and by the peace that passeth all understanding, I would 
tell you, even weeping, that we are the enemies of the 
cross of Christ ! 

(2.) They are the enemies of the cross of Christ, who 
are living in the indulgence of any known sin. It was 
the indulgence of a single sin, and not any general de- 
pravity of manners, that determined the character of 
Achan and of Judas. It needs no argument to show 
that the man that is seeking my hurt in any way, is my 
enemy ; and that he who is aiding and abetting a foe in 
the smallest matters, is to be set down as a traitor to his 
country. It is not in great transactions that the charac- 
ter is best determined. He who gives a foe information 
of a weak point in a fortress, is as really an enemy to his 
country as if he were to surrender the garrison ; and he 
who furnishes an enemy with a small boat for his ser- 
vice, is as really a traitor to his country as though it were 
a ship of the line. It was for this reason that our Saviour 
said, " If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast 
it from thee, that thy whole body be not cast into hell." 
Matth. v. 29, 30. And for this reason David said, " If I 
regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me;" 
and for this reason he exclaimed, " Who can understand 



202 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

his errors ? Cleanse thou me from secret faults." Psal. 
xix. 12. 

It is perfectly manifest, that the man who indulges de- 
liberately in any known sin, is the foe of his Maker. He 
shows that he disregards his authority, and despises the 
work of Christ, for he came that he might " cleanse us 
from all iniquity." It matters not what this sin is ; nor 
is it to be supposed that it is the same in all. It may be 
levity, pride, ambition, envy, malice, backbiting, or covet- 
ousness. It may be a purpose of revenge for a real or 
supposed affront. It may be an unwillingness to confess 
a fault, and to ask for pardon. It may be a refusal to 
make restitution for an injury done to a neighbor's per- 
son or property. It may be the indulgence of an unholy 
temper, or an unhallowed filling the mind with images 
of sensuality and licentiousness. It may be an incessant 
aspiring after the honors of the world, or a desire for its 
wealth that is never at ease, and that is never satisfied. 
It may be a habit of murmuring at the allotments of 
Providence, and the indulgence of envious feelings that 
others are more honored, or more prospered than our- 
selves. It may be attachment to some idol, or incon- 
solable grief that some object of affection has been re- 
moved by the hand of God. Whatever it is, hostility to 
the cross is evinced by its indulgence ; and the man as 
certainly shows that he is the enemy of Christ, as if he 
had driven the nails that fastened him to the tree, or plait- 
ed for him the crown of thorns. 1 1 kept the raiment of 
those that stoned the martyr Stephen,' said Paul ; and 
though he did not throw a stone, he regarded himself as 
not meet to be an apostle. One of the very elements of 
Christianity is, that he who does not desire to renounce 
every thing that is sinful, is the enemy of God. 

(3.) Those who are pursuing a doubtful and undecided 
course of conduct without any effort to know what is 
right, are the enemies of the cross of Christ. An honest 
man, a sincere Christian, will be willing to be made ac- 
quainted with all his faults. He will not turn away his 
ear from reproof, but will candidly and prayerfully de- 
sire to know what is the will of God. For i't is one of 
the very elements of Christianity, that a man should come 
to Christ as a little child, and be willing to sit at his feet. 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 203 

It is an indispensable requisite that he should be desirous 
of knowing his Lord's will, and of ascertaining what 
God requires at his hand. 

Now, there may be many courses of conduct which to 
the mind of a professed Christian must be, to say the 
least, of very doubtful propriety. It must be a serious 
question, whether they can be reconciled with the spirit 
of the Lord Jesus Christ, and with the stern and uncom- 
promising principles of Christianity. Whether,for instance, 
a certain style of living and expense be such as Christ 
will approve; whether the indulgence of certain feelings 
be such as are consistent with Christianity ; whether a cer- 
tain kind of business be such as a Christian should pursue ; 
whether a man's expenditure for personal adorning, or 
for his family, and his gratification be right ; and whether 
his expenditures for the purpose of doing good and the 
salvation of the world, are such as are demanded by the 
gospel of Christ ; these and a hundred similar questions 
must come before the mind of each professor of religion, 
and ought to receive a prompt and intelligent decision. 

The position which is now before us is, that a man who 
will pursue a course of life which is of doubtful propriety, 
and on which his own mind is not satisfied that it is con- 
sistent with Christianity, without any pains to know what 
is right, is the enemy of the cross of Christ. He gives 
evidence that he has never learned the very first princi- 
ples of religion, the principles requiring him to submit 
his will to the will of God. I refer to such cases as the 
following. (1.) Where a man has every reason to believe 
that if he were to examine his course of life by the Bible 
he would find it to be wrong, and yet continues to pursue 
it without examination, and because he is univilling to 
be convinced. (2.) Where a man is told by his friends 
that a certain course of life is evil, and yet is resolved to 
pursue it without further notice or attention to the inquiry. 
(3.) Where he becomes angry with a friend that would 
convince him of the error of his course, or where he as- 
sumes an air of indifference or contempt in the sanctuary 
where such subjects come up for discussion. (4.) Where 
the subject occupies public attention and discussion, and 
he will neither read, nor converse, nor pray on it, but is 
resolved to brave public opinion and the Bible. And (5.) 



204 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

Where he will not pray, and examine, and make it his 
business to ascertain whether he is, or is not, pursuing a 
course of life that shall please God. In all these cases, he 
is evidently an enemy of the cross of Christ ; for he 
evinces just the spirit which the enemies of God do 
always, and which a true Christian can never. The men 
of the world pursue their own ways ; will not be admon- 
ished ; will not stop to inquire whether their course is one 
that pleases God ; and become irritated and vexed if 
God by his Providence or his Spirit so far interferes with 
their doings, as to call in question the propriety of their 
conduct. And when professing Christians do the same 
thing, they show that they have the same spirit, and that 
they have never been born again. You pursue a course 
of life, it may be, for which your conscience reproves 
you, and for which the world reproaches you, and which 
real Christians think to be wrong, and which you have 
every reason to think the Bible condemns, and yet you 
are at no pains to examine it. You continue to pursue 
it from year to year, and you thus show, that you are an 
utter stranger to the very elements of that gospel which 
Paul embraced when he said, " Lord what ivilt thou 
have vie to do?" 

(4.) They are the enemies of the cross of Christ among 
his professed friends, who manifest in their conduct none 
of the peculiarities of those who truly love him. There 
is something that constitutes the peculiarity, the essential 
nature, of the Christian religion. There was something 
which distinguished the Lord Jesus from the mass of men, 
and which constituted the peculiarity of his character. 
There is something — whatever it may be — which is re- 
quired in the New Testament as the "distinguishing evi- 
dence of attachment to the Lord Jesus. There is some- 
thing which is to serve to distinguish Christians from 
other men, or the religion is worthless. Now, my position 
is, that, whatever this is, unless we possess it, we are the 
enemies of the cross of Christ. Whatever this is, it is not 
external morality, for many men of the world are moral 
men. It is not amiableness of temper, for many of them are 
amiable and kind. It is not simply honesty and integrity, 
for many of them are honest. It is something winch 'is 
to distinguish us from all the men of the world, and it 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 205 

we are destitute of that, our profession is " sounding brass 
and a tinkling cymbol." 

But how, perhaps it may be asked, does it appear that 
there is to be any thing peculiar in the Christian profes- 
sion ? I answer. It is not the nature of religion to be 
hid. Men do not light a candle to put it under a bushel. 
I answer further, that the stupendous truths of redemp- 
tion are not brought to bear upon the human soul that it 
might be just what it was before. Did Christ die that 
his followers might be just like other men? Was his 
precious blood shed on Calvary that, his followers might 
be undistinguished in the mighty mass of sinners ? Did 
the Son of God toil and bleed that the kingdom which he 
reared might be just like all other kingdoms ? Did the 
apostles labor, and suffer, and die as martyrs that they 
might leave the world as they found it ? And does the 
Holy Ghost effect the mighty change of the new creation 
in the soul, that the man might be just what he was be- 
fore ? And are the solemn truths pertaining to God's 
authority, and to heaven and hell, brought to bear on the 
conscience, that the friends of Christ may be just as worldly 
minded, and as gay, and as prayerless, and as vain, and as 
ambitious, as other men ? Are morality and kindness alone 
to be baptized, and are these all that the blood of the 
Saviour purchased on the cross ? Then were those pangs 
in vain. And then this stupendous scheme of the incar- 
nation and death of God's own Son, was a scheme of 
most mighty preparation for most unimportant results. 
But it is not so. He designed that religion should be 
seen, and known, and felt. He meant that his people 
should be a peculiar people. He intended to rear a king- 
dom unlike all other kingdoms ; to be at the head of an 
empire unlike all other empires ; and to marshal an im- 
mense host that should shine like the stars of night, or 
like suns, in the darkness of a lost world. And if we 
have not the peculiarities of his friends, we are the ene- 
mies of his cross ! 

I close this discourse by observing, that were the dis- 
cussion to end here, perhaps enough has been already 
said to destroy the false hopes of some who now hear 
me. I have specified four particulars; and there may 
be many professors who, if weighed in these balances, 
18 



206 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

would be found wanting: — many who have not the 
slightest evidence that they have ever been regener- 
ated; who are habitually indulging in some known 
sin without any effort to overcome it ; who are pur- 
suing a doubtful course of life without any pains taken to 
inquire whether it be consistent with the New Testament 
or not, and who are conscious that they have none of the 
peculiarities which went to make up the character of 
Christ ; who are conscious that they have never formed 
a plan, or performed an action, which the man of the 
world might not do, and who have never put forth one 
effort solely to promote the glory of God. 

If this be the state of the mind in any case, the con- 
clusion is inevitable. Light has no fellowship with dark- 
ness, nor Christ with Belial. Painful as is the conclusion, 
yet we are to remember that an enemy hath sown tares 
in the great field which God will soon reap, and that the 
proof is clear in the New Testament that the enemies of 
Christ will in various ways come into his church. It was 
from no wish to give pain that the Saviour stated this 
doctrine, and it is from no wish to produce pain that it is 
now repeated. " Faithful are the wounds of a friend." 
Timely admonition evinces more friendship than an at- 
tempt to " daub with untempered mortar," or to " cry 
peace, peace, when there is no peace." Not in words 
only, therefore ; not in the way of professional duty merely, 
but in the sober language of friendship, and with the ap- 
prehensions of just alarm, do I exhort each professor 
to examine his heart, and his life. For soon these eyes 
will open upon the judgment seat ; and soon our own 
ears will hear the words addressed to many unhappy 
mortals, once professors of the religion of Christ, " De- 
part from me, I never knew you." 

I anticipate that this discourse will give pain, if pain 
at all, where it is least desirable that it should be done. 
The humble, pious, modest, praying, real Christian, is 
usually the one who is most alarmed by appeals like 
this. The man deceived ; the cold, f mal professor ; the 
one really intended, and who is really the enemy of the 
cross of Christ, is usually the man least affected, least 
moved, least concerned. Judas was the last man at the 
table to express concern when the Saviour said that one 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 207 

of them would betray him. "Lord is it I?" was the 
reluctant, and hollow language of the traitor at last. And 
the last man who might ask the question here, 'am I un- 
renewed, am I indulging in known sin, am I pursuing a 
doubtful course of life, am I failing to exhibit the peculiar 
spirit of a Christian/ might not improbably be the very 
one who has most undoubted evidence of being the enemy 
of the cross of Christ. Such are not alarmed. They 
thank not the Saviour for his admonitions and reproofs. 
Let us take to ourselves words and turn to the Lord and 
say, " Search me, God, and know my heart ; try me, 
and know my thoughts ; and see if there be any wicked 
way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." 



SERMON XIV. 

ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. NO. 2. 

Phil. iii. 18. For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now 
tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ. 

From these words, in the last discourse, I proposed to 
consider the following points : 

I. There is reason to believe that many professors of 
religion are the enemies of the cross of Christ. 

II. What are the characteristics of that enmity, or how 
may it be known that they are such ; and 

III. Why is the fact of their being in the church an 
occasion of grief and tears. 

The first point was considered ; and also four specifi- 
cations under the second head were suggested. I specified 
the following classes as being his enemies, though in the 
church : 

(1.) Those who have not been born again or regene- 
rated; (2.) those who are living in the practice of any 
known sin ; (3.) those who are pursuing a doubtful course 
of life without any pains taken to ascertain whether it is 
right or wrong; and (4.) those who in their conduct 
manifest none of the peculiarities of those who truly love 
him. 

In the prosecution of the subject at this time, I pro- 
pose to call your attention to some additional particulars 
which are expressive of hostility to him among those who 
professedly love him. Resuming the subject where we 
then left off, I observe, 

(5.) In the fifth place, that they are the enemies of the 
cross of Christ among his professed friends, who have a 
deeper interest in their worldly affairs than thev have in 
the cause of the Redeemer, this is the particular thing 
that is specified in the verse succeeding my text. Paul, 
giving an account of the professors of religion at Philippi 
whom he regarded as the enemies of the cross of Christ, 
describes them as those who " mind earthly things ;" 

208 



ENEMIES OP THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 209 

that is, whose supreme care was manifested for the 
things of this life. " Our conversation/' he elsewhere 
says, speaking of true Christians, " is in heaven ;" their 
plans and thoughts pertain to the things of the earth, and 
they thus show, though they are professors of religion, 
the real principles by which they are actuated. And in. 
the second chapter of this epistle, when describing per- 
sons of a similar character, he says, " For all seek their 
own, not the things which are Jesus Christ's. 7 ' Chap. ii. 
21. And again, in 2 Timothy hi. 2, when describing a 
period of great apostasy and general declension in reli- 
gion, he says, as the characteristics of those times, " Men 
shall be lovers of their own selves." This is the esta- 
blished mode of judging men's real character in the New 
Testament. " By their fruit," was the Saviour's rule, 
" shall ye know them." " Men do not gather grapes of 
thorns, nor figs of thistles." When we see a shrub pro- 
ducing only thorns, we judge that it is a thorn-bush ; 
when producing only thistles, we judge that it is a thistle. 
My proposition is, that where men have a deeper in- 
terest in worldly affairs than they have in the cause of 
Christ, they are strangers to his religion. The proof of 
this proposition lies in a nut-shell. For (1.) The Re- 
deemer himself said, " He that is not with me is against 
me." (2.) There must be some way of accurately ar- 
riving at a knowledge of character ; and there is no better 
way than to observe a man's habitual walk and conver- 
sation. Character is the result of conduct. It is not a 
single deed ; it is not a temporary ebullition of feeling. 
We do not attribute the tried character of virtue to the 
man who has resisted a single temptation; nor of hero- 
ism to the man who has been engaged in a single con- 
flict. It is the man who has been often tempted, and who 
has successfully resisted temptation, to whom we award 
the praise of virtue ; and it is the hero of many battles, 
and many scars, to whom we ascribe valor. We ask, in 
determining character, what is the tenor of the man's 
life ; what it is that will call forth the latent principles of 
his soul ? If it be to make money, we then say that that is 
his character. If it be to become honored, we then say so. 
If it be to shine in the gay circle, we then say so. And 
if the habitual purpose of the life be, that the man cares 
18* 



210 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

more for the things of this world than he does for the 
cause of Christ ; if they occupy more of his time and 
thoughts ; if his actions and his plans are just like those 
of the men of this world, and just such as Satan would 
have them to he, he is the enemy of the cross of Christ. 
(3.) The interests of Chrises kingdom are intended to 
be supreme. He seeks no divided sway, and rules over 
no divided empire. He came not to establish a kingdom 
that should be just like all other kingdoms, nor to sit on 
a throne that is occupied by a rival. " If any man come 
to me," is his language, " and hate not his father, and 
mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sis- 
ters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my dis- 
ciple." Luke xiv. 26. If the interests of his kingdom, 
therefore, are not supreme in the affections, and if a man 
is not ready to sacrifice all other interests to his, he is the 
enemy of his cross. (4.) The principles of the Christian 
religion cannot lie dormant in the soul. If those princi- 
ples exist, they will be manifested. Christians are to be 
the light of the world ; and a light is not kindled that it 
may be put under a bushel. Religion consists in love 
to God and love to man. Can that love exist, and yet 
the man always act as if it did not exist? Religion 
consists in meekness, forgiveness, joy, peace, long-sutfer- 
ing, temperance, charity. Can these exist in the heart, 
and yet a man act just as though they did not ? Religion 
consists in self-denial, in bearing the cross, in crucifying 
the flesh with the affections and lusts. Can those princf- 
ples exist, and yet the man be just as self-indulgent, just 
as much seeking the pleasures and enjoyments of this 
life as the men of the world ? Religion i's holiness, not 
mere morality ; it is conformity to Christ, not conformity 
to an imaginary standard of excellence. Can that exist, 
and yet the man in his manner of life be just like all other 
men? Was there nothing in which Jesus Christ was dis- 
tinguished from the world ? 

It is sometimes said that piety should be retiring, and 
unseen. Religion it is said, is a secret principle of the 
soul. It shrinks back from the public gaze, and seeks 
concealment, and should not seek publicity. But why is 
this said ? There is nothing of it in the Bible ; but every 
thing there is just the contrary. Hypocrisy, and mere 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 211 

profession, and ostentation, and sounding a trumpet, are 
rebuked. But I ask a man to point me to a single pas- 
sage in the Bible where the manifestation of pure religion 
is rebuked. " Let your light so shine before men," is the 
language of the Redeemer, " that they may see your good 
works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." " He 
that is ashamed of me, and of my words before men, of 
him shall the Son of man be ashamed when he shall come 
in his own glory, and with the glory of the Father and 
with the holy angels." Religion, in the Bible, is supposed 
to be prominent, and manifest, if it exists at all. It is to 
constitute the character ; it is to distinguish the man. 
I point you to the example of Christ. Religion is every 
thing in his life. I point you to the example of Paul. 
You see nothing else in his life but his religion. Among 
Greeks, and Jews, and Barbarians, it is alike developed. 
I point you to David, and Isaiah, and John, and the holy 
martyrs, and ask what were their principles ? The men 
were modest men ; but their religion was open and bold. 
It constituted their very character ; and is that, and that 
alone, by which they are known. And thus it is in all 
the works and doings of God. Is the sun that rides these 
heavens ashamed to shine ; and does he hide his noontide 
beams under the plea that pure light should not be osten- 
tation ? Is the moon— that, like the Christian shines by re- 
flected light — ashamed to emit its rays, and to sleep on the 
" bank" and the silver lake ? Are the stars — the wandering 
or the fixed — ashamed to send their rays on a darkened 
world ? No. Light, pure, rich, varied, dazzling, shines 
forth from these heavens by day and by night, just as the 
light of the Christian's example is to be poured on the 
darkness of the world. It shines not indeed for display, 
but for use ; not for its own glory, but like the light that 
should radiate from the Christian's life, to illustrate the 
glory of the Great Creator. And thus it is in all God's 
works. The ocean that he has made is not ashamed to 
roll ; the lightning of heaven to play ; the oak to spread 
out its boughs ; the flower to bloom. The humblest violet 
on which we tread is not ashamed to exhibit its beauty, 
and display its Maker's praise ; nor will the obscurest 
light in the true Christian's soul seek to be hid. Light 
is kindled there to shine on the darkness of a lost world. 



212 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

And if Christian light does not shine forth in the life, we 
have the highest evidence that it has never been en- 
kindled in the bosom. 

The conclusion, therefore, is inevitable, that where men 
have a deeper interest in the things of this world than they 
have in the cause of Christ, they are the enemies of his 
cross. They are pursuing the course which the grand 
enemy of that cross would wish them to pursue. My 
meaning here will not be misunderstood. I refer to the 
cases where the concerns of this world are allowed to 
engross all a man's time ; where this is the primary object 
of his solicitude ; where it constitutes his character ', and 
is that by which he is every where known ; and where 
nothing will excite an interest in religion, further than 
the formality of its external observances. The character 
of such a man is that of a worldly man. He is living as 
worldly men live, and as the enemy of God would wish 
him to live, in estrangement from all the vital principles 
of the kingdom of the Saviour ; and he must be judged 
accordingly. 

(6.) They are the enemies of the cross of Christ in his 
church, whom nothing can induce to give up their worldly 
concerns for the cause of religion when God demands it. 

I begin the illustration of this, by remarking, that, it is 
to be feared, there is a great and radical mistake on this 
point, in the feelings and language of most men. The 
mistake to which I refer is, a feeling that time, and talents, 
and strength, belong of right to us. We speak of our time, 
our talents, our property. We hear men use the language 
of complete self-appropriation, not in the qualified sense 
which they will use who believe that all belongs of right 
to God, but in the sense of absolute proprietorship. And 
this is not the language of the professed men of this world 
merely, but of the professed friends of God. The mis- 
take to which I refer is, that of regarding time as ours, 
and talent as ours, and wealth as ours.^ For the truth 
is, that the affairs of this life, as well as the business 
of prayer and praise, should be pursued because this is 
a part of the service which we owe to God. " Whether, 
therefore, ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to 
the glory of God." The business of the farm, or the 
counting-room, or the office, should be conducted with 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 213 

as decided reference to his will as the services of the 
sanctuary. Nor will men understand the true nature 
of religion until Christianity is suffered to assert its 
claims over each moment of time, over each faculty of 
mind and body, and each plan of life. For a man may 
just as easily, and with just as much propriety, cultivate 
his farm, or make a machine, or engage in commerce, 
with a direct purpose to glorify God, and to honor the 
gospel in his appropriate calling, as when he prays, or 
reads the Bible, or goes forth as a missionary to save the 
world. 

It follows, therefore, that the gospel was designed to 
overcome the love of the world, and to induce men 
to surrender all when God urges his claims. For the 
Redeemer said, " If any man will come after me, let 
him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow 
me." Luke ix. 23. " Let the dead bury their dead, but 
follow thou me." " Whosoever wilt save his life shalt 
lose it, but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the 
same shall save it. For what is a man advantaged if he 
gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ?" Luke ix, 
24 — 25. " If any man come to me, and hate not his father 
and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and 
sisters, yea and his own life also, he cannot be my dis- 
ciple." Luke xiv. 26. 

And thus we judge in every thing. You wish to try a 
man's patriotism. He has a dwelling near the battle- 
field where his countrymen have fallen in defence of 
freedom, and are bleeding on the cold earth. If he will 
not open his dwelling to receive the wounded soldier, do 
you esteem him to be friend of his country ? You wish 
to know whether a man is your friend. If he will not give 
up his own petty gratifications to aid you in your distress, 
will you esteem him to be such? If your affairs are 
tending to bankruptcy, and he will not aid you ; if you 
are naked and he will not clothe you ; if you are hungry, 
and he will not give you meat, thirsty and he will not 
give you drink ; sick, and in prison, and he will not come 
near to alleviate your pains, to wipe the cold sweat from 
your brow, to moisten your parched lips, will you regard 
his professions to be sincere ; or will you judge them to 
be false, and hollow ? 



214 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

These principles are so obvious about common affairs 
that they need no further illustration ; and they are just 
as obvious in religion. My position is, that where nothing 
will induce men to regard their worldly concerns as sub- 
ordinate to the cause of Christ, it is proof that they are 
the enemies of his cross. As an illustration of what is 
meant by this general principle, I shall refer to a few par- 
ticulars. I specify, then, 

First, amusements. — The position is, that if a professed 
follower of Christ will not abandon those which are ob- 
viously and certainly inconsistent with the gospel, he is 
the enemy of the cross of Christ. If he is engaged in 
just such amusements as the people of the world are ; if 
he engages in them with the same zest, and zeal, and at 
the same expense ; if he evinces the same gaiety, levity, 
and vanity that they do, it is proof that his heart is not 
with Jesus Christ and his cause, but with them. If he 
is in the habit of attending places which he knows the 
Lord Jesus would not have attended ; and if he is undis- 
tinguished in feeling, conversation, and deportment, from 
the gay and thoughtless who are professedly going away 
from heaven, and in the estimation of the Christian world 
going down to hell, it proves that he is the enemy of the 
cross of Christ. If he has a deeper interest in the fash- 
ionable assembly than he has in the humble place where 
the true friends of God seek his blessing by prayer, who 
can doubt where his heart is ? If he will abridge, or 
abandon his ordinary and proper times of secret devotion 
for the gaieties of the fashionable circle, who can doubt 
what is the real spirit that actuates his bosom ? If a pro- 
fessed Christian, in relation to these matters, is pursuing 
just such a course as the great enemy of seriousness and 
of heaven would have him pursue ; if he is found in just 
such places, and making just such parties, and indulging 
in just such expenses as will gratify, not the Lord Jesus, 
but the Prince of darkness, he thus shows that he is the 
enemy of the cross. And if this is pursued from one 
year to another, and it becomes the established character 
that the course of life is just such as will gratify Satan, 
and pain the bosoms of the friends of God,~the character 
may be as certainly known as though the judgment- day 
were already past/and the destiny sealed. 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 215 

Secondly, property. — If a man will not surrender it to 
God when he demands it for his service, it proves that he 
is the enemy of the cross of Christ. If he is living for its 
acquisition just as the men of the world are ; if he grasps 
it and hoards it with as much greediness as they do ; if 
it be the characteristic of the man that he is a lover of 
gold rather than a man of prayer, it is a demonstration of 
his character which cannot be mistaken. If he pursues 
just such a mode of life as the enemy of God would 
desire — is just as avaricious, and selfish, and close ; or just 
as extravagant, and profuse in his manner of living as 
he would wish him to be, it shows that he is the enemy 
of the cross of Christ. For thus we judge in all things. 
If a man pursues just such a course of life as will gratify 
the enemies of his country, we judge that he is in their 
interest. If he has just such objects, plans, and modes 
of living, as an enemy would prescribe ; if he is living so 
that he could not desire a change, and would not suggest 
an alteration, we have no doubt about the real principles 
of the man. His own countrymen cannot doubt ; the 
enemy cannot doubt ; the Judge of all cannot doubt. 

Thirdly, time. — When professed Christians form their 
own schemes, and employ all their hours in doing their 
own will; when they will not appropriate that which 
God requires for prayer, and for searching the Bible ; and 
when they will not devote that which he demands in 
efforts to do good to others, it shows that they are the 
enemies of the cross. When their first thoughts in the 
morning, and their mid-day plans, and their last thoughts 
at night are of the world, and not of God, there is an 
indication which is infallible of the true state of their 
feeling. When a man professing patriotism, lives just as 
the enemy of his country would wish ; when all his time 
is employed in a manner that goes to promote his plans, 
and to weaken the resources of his country, it shows that 
he is in the service of the foe. 

(7.) Those are the enemies of the cross of Christ who 
are opposed to all that is peculiar in the doctrines of 
Christianity. One of the first things which the Lord 
Jesus has required is, that we should be willing to receive 
the kingdom of God as a little child. Nothing is more 
evident than that where there is an unwillingness to re- 



216 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

ceive as truth that which God has stated to be truth ; to 
admit as fact that which he has declared to be fact ; and 
to repose sufficient confidence in him to believe what he 
says, that there can be no true love to Him, and no real 
friendship for his cause. If there be, therefore, an open 
opposition to the doctrines of the Bible, or a secret resis- 
tance of those truths, it proves that we have never yet 
submitted the understanding and the will of God. I refer 
to such cases as the following. (1.) Where a professed 
friend of Christ admits the doctrines of the Bible in 
general, but denies them in detail. (2.) Where he 
admits such doctrines in the Bible to be true as are found 
in systems of natural religion, but doubts, or denies those 
which constitute the peculiarity of Christianity. Many 
a man will admit cheerfully the doctrine that there is a 
God ; will admit in general the duties of morality, while 
he will be an open opposer of the doctrines of human de- 
pravity, of the atonement, of divine Sovereignty, of elec- 
tion, and of the agency of the Holy Ghost. (3.) Where 
a man will not examine these doctrines to satisfy his own 
mind whether they are true or false, he shows that he is 
the secret enemy of the cross. For one of the elements 
of the Christian faith is a willingness to know what is 
true ; and where a man has strong reasons to believe that 
if he were to examine them he would be convinced that 
they are true, and yet will not examine them, it shows 
that he is secretly opposed to them. (4.) Where a man 
becomes angry, and chafed, and vexed when those doc- 
trines are preached ; where he demands the preaching of 
mere moral essays, and is irritated if the doctrines of re- 
ligion are presented just as they are in the Bible, it 
shows that he is the enemy of the cross. He has not yet 
learned the first principle of religion which requires him 
to submit his understanding to God. (5.) Where he takes 
sides with the men of the world in regard to these high 
truths of the Bible, it shows that he is the enemy of the 
cross. Where in the circle of the gay, the vain, the 
worldly, and the scoffing, he is unwilling'that it should be 
known that he holds them, or joins with others in opposing 
them, it shows that his heart has no true love for those 
doctrines. For these are the times and the places that 
show whether he has really any attachment to the doc- 



ENEMIES OP THE CROSS OF CHSI5T. 8 | " 

trines of the Bible, or whether he ■ pes 
them. And when we see a man eomdrfiiig entire^ 
the men of this world in re; : : 1 : : : b we tre h s fcdfa ■ 
they feel ; and talking : they talk: and oppos ing what 
they oppose ; and doubting just what (hey i a ol :. we i . 
be at no loss about his real char:-- stea 

: Finally They are the enemies ;: the a 
Christ who are opposed to all the peculiar duties of the 
Christian religion 5 who enter spoil those Infies with re- 
iuctance : who re nee .... mey ire 
show throughout :.: : the hear! ... \..-:ti. I shall 
not pause to prove this, fin . - perfectly apparent thai 
in the sight of : : - r -" i the eharactei is :: be lete- 
mined by th : stale :: th~ he: rr. :-..:'. lot "".;■•. he :i :e:::: . 
profession. In illustrating this head :: the _. .:_:se. I 
refer to soeh eases as the following; I Where the ob- 
ligations of piery are admitted in gt lemed in 

detail. The man adnata Christianity to be trne in gene- 
ral, but he neglects prayer, irhe lives for this work] m 
he indulges in envy : : lesire jf revenge w be is am* 
bitions. or he is unwilling to deny himself and take up 
his cross, until . .: lint the sy55tem :: Clmstianity 
is all denied by him. and nothing is ':-: . the name 
There is nothing by which he is known in drstinetion trc m 
: . s. and the conclusion is. that the nan . eligion 

. . s over him no influence. -2. Where professors have 

no sympathy with the plans rf trne Christians Where, 

they admit the truth of Christianity in general, they 

have no sympathy . . : . . : fc : ~ . . 

spread of the gospel : wh: strangers :: those 

plans, and uninterested in then ..-if mey have 

. icing at the conversion oi shiners and no tears fn 
shed that millions are going flown :: hell : h: - 

ever rouses them to even : momentary eflbrt foi the pro- 
motion of the cause for which me Saviour Bed 
thev have no prayers :: aflej in secret andnc 
encouras-ement to speak to the ::.: friends .: . 
where their I : 90ms w« aid bs :._::: n : hea it-left 
hearing that contine::: after Dontrnent, and island : : '.. 
island should be converted :: God. Are there not men 
in the Christian church wh: are : ;. ly a : : ah the 

if . political parties in me ...and 

19 



218 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

whose prompt co-operation may be confidently expected 
by their party, but on whose aid in promoting the salva- 
tion of men no reliance can be placed ? Are there not 
men fully acquainted with all that will go to promote 
commerce, and wealth,, and national prosperity, whose 
presence and counsel we should seek in vain in any direct 
effort to promote a revival of pure religion ? Are there 
not men whose bosoms are agitated by any fluctuations 
in the money market, or by a prospect of defeat in a po- 
litical campaign, who have no anxiety to express, and 
no tears to shed when the church slumbers, and when 
the gospal falls powerless on the heavy ears of men? 
And can the character of such men be mistaken, or the 
real object of their preference be a matter of doubt? — 
Again. Are there not those who are familiar with all the 
movements of the gay and fashionable world, and who 
possibly may be the charm of every circle that forgets 
God and that hates Jesus Christ, who have yet to offer 
the first sincere prayer for the conversion of a son], and 
who leave the real friends of the Redeemer to struggle 
alone amidst many embarrassments and discouragements? 
And can it be a matter of doubt whether they have ever 
been translated from the kingdom of darkness into the 
kingdom of God's dear Son? (3.) I refer to instances 
where all the sympathies are on the side of the enemy of 
Christ. Where the professed Christian readily falls in 
with the observations which the sons and daughters of 
gaiety and of sin make about revivals of religion ; about 
the proper mode of preaching ; about the faults of Chris- 
tians, and the efforts of Christian benevolence ; where, 
when an enemy of revivals is met, the professed Chris- 
tian is an enemy also ; when an enemy of missions is 
met, the professed Christian is an enemy also; when 
an enemy of godliness complains of a certain style of 
preaching, the professed Christian complains also ; when 
an enemy of God dwells on the disorders of religious 
excitements, and the mistakes and errors of Christians, 
the professed Christian has the same remarks to offer, 
and has not one word to express in behalf of the in- 
jured and insulted cause of God. If, on ail these sub- 
jects, he thinks just as the enemy of God thinks, and feels 
as he feels, and talks as he talks, can there be any doubt 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 219 

about his true character ? If my conversation be just such 
as the enemy of my country would desire, can there be 
any doubt that I am in his interest ? And if, on the sub- 
ject of religion, I talk just as the Devil would wish me 
to talk ; if I make just such objections to the movements 
of Christians as he could wish me to make ; if I oppose 
just those things which he would wish me to oppose ; 
and, if my whole style of action and remark be such as 
would be gratifying to him, can there be any doubt about 
my real character ? Not professions determine the cha- 
racter, but the language, the conduct, the life. 

In closing this part of the discussion, I may observe, 
that the subject is one of easy application. My aim has 
been to make it so plain that it should be impossible to 
mistake my meaning ; and I presume that I have not 
been misunderstood. The application of the eight tests 
of character which I have suggested, can be easily made. 
I may repeat a remark which is often made, that every 
consideration of interest, and duty, and hope, and self- 
respect, demands that we should be honest on this subject 
of religion, and if we are deceived, let us know it before 
it shall be too late forever. For " who among us can 
dwell with devouring fire ? who can inhabit everlasting 
burnings ?" " Faithful are the wounds of a friend ;" and 
I can never do any man more essential service, if he is 
deceived, than to show him his danger, and point him to 
the cross of Christ, that he may obtain true peace and 
salvation. 

If it should be said, as possibly it may be, that there 
is too much of severity in the remarks which I have thus 
made, this is my answer. I desire not to give needless 
pain ; nor shall I. Pain now, may save an eternity of 
wo hereafter. My fears on that subject are not that too 
much anxiety will be excited, but that there will be too 
little, or that there will be none. I answer further, that 
these tests of character are not severe. In thousands, 
nay in millions of cases, they have been applied, and true 
religion in the heart has endured the trial. Thousands 
of martyrs have put these principles to the test, and they 
have borne it. In view of the rack and the stake ; in 
view of conflicts with wild beasts in the amphitheatre, 
and of a lingering death by torture, the question as to the 



220 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

sincerity of piety has been tried, and piety has sustained 
the trial. The question has come up there — oh, with what 
interest — < Have I been born again ; have I forsaken my 
sins ; have I the true spirit of a Christian ; have I a 
deeper interest in the cross than in all other things ; have 
I been willing to forsake father, and mother, and wife, 
and children ; do I love the great cause of redemption, and 
is my sympathy with the friends of God ?' and the an- 
swer before persecuting councils and kings has been 
prompt and steady, \ I am ready to bleed or to be burned 
in attestation of the truth of this religion* — Too severe ! 
No. Nothing which men can say; nothing which tyrants 
can do ; nothing which Satan can devise, is too severe a 
test for the principles of Christian piety. These princi- 
ples will bear the utmost scrutiny of torture on earth, and 
the deep searehings of the omniscient and most holy 
eye of God at the bar of judgment ! And if our pro- 
fessed principles of piety will not bear all these, we are 
the enemies of the cross of Christ. I answer, finally, 
that a scrutiny far more severe than any which can result 
from my exhibition of the truth is yet to be applied to 
us. Death is soon to try us, to see whether our religion 
will sustain us there. The searching eye of the Almighty 
Judge is to try us at his bar, to see if our religion will 
sustain us there. And if our piety will not bear the scru- 
tiny applied by an erring and most imperfect mortal, how 
shall it bear the trials of the bed of death, and the solemn 
investigations of the final day ? Let us then again take 
words and turn to the Lord, and say with one mind, 
"Search us, God, and know our hearts; try us, and 
know our thoughts ; and see if there be any wicked way 
in us, and lead us in the way everlasting." Ps. cxxxix. 23* 



SERMON XV. 

ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. NO. 3. 

Phil. iii. 18. 19. For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and 
now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ, 
whose end is destruction. 

I proposed, from these words, to consider three points : 

I. There is reason to believe that many professing 
Christians are the real enemies of the cross of Christ. 

II. What are the characteristics of that enmity ; or how 
may they be known to be such ; and 

III. Why is the fact of their being in the church fitted 
to excite grief. 

The first two points have been considered. The third 
will occupy our attention at this time ; and the enquiry 
is, why is the fact that there are in the church those who 
are the enemies of the cross of Christ fitted to excite grief 
and tears. I observe : 

I. In the first place, that their being in the church is a 
fact fitted to call forth the feelings of tenderness and com- 
miseration — not reproach and harshness of language — 
for they are cherishing hopes that will be disappointed, 
and are exposed to danger that is unfelt. The effect on 
the mind of Paul was to produce tears, not harsh reproof, 
not angry denunciation. He saw their situation as one 
that was to be wept over ; and he knew enough of human 
nature to see that all hope of reclaiming such persons was 
in the use of the language of kindness and love. Kind- 
ness will do what harshness never can ; and the love which 
expresses itself in gushing tears will make its way to the 
heart, while harsh words would only steel the soul, and 
confirm it in error. 

A similar case occurred in the church at Corinth, and 
Paul met it in the same manner. Though required by 
the nature of the offence to proceed to the extremity of 
Christian discipline, yet it was still with tenderness and 
tears. " For out of much affliction and anguish of heart/' 
19* 221 



222 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

says he, " 1 wrote unto you with many tears ; not that ye 
should he grieved, but that ye might know the love which 
I have more abundantly unto you." 2 Cor. ii. 4. 

The same language of tenderness is evinced in the New 
Testament throughout, in regard to this class of persons. 
The Saviour's language was uniformly that of tenderness, 
and pity. He spake with a fearful solemnity of manner 
indeed ; with words which show how much his soul was 
impressed with the importance of the subject ; yet in his 
manner and words there is not a particle of harshness. 
We admit that when the Lord Jesus addressed the hypo- 
crite — the man who professed a religion which he knew, 
he did not practice, we hear the language of severity. 
" Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers," says he, " how 
can ye escape the damnation of hell !" The age in 
which he lived was eminently hypocritical ; the men 
with whom he had to deal were many of them false pro- 
fessors. But we are not to infer that this is to be the 
characteristic of all times, or that men in the church who 
are strangers to religion, are to be addressed in this man- 
ner, by us. The Son of God, knowing the human heart, 
could speak with unerring certainty of the character of 
those whom he addressed. But the ministers of religion 
— themselves imperfect men, and having no right to as- 
sume pre-eminence in moral worth above their Christian 
brethren, will use the language of entreaty, not of denun- 
ciation; will seek to melt the heart by a tender setting 
forth of danger, not to overwhelm it by the denunciations 
of wrath. 

Perhaps we are in danger of erring in regard to the 
character of those in the church who give no evidence 
of piety. In churches that are connected with the state ; 
in lands where the obtainment of office or any other 
important temporal advantage may depend on a pro- 
fession of religion, many will openly profess it who are 
influenced solely by a regard to the worldly considera- 
tion. But the temptation to this in this land, if it ever 
exist at all, exists to so inconsiderable a degree as not 
to call for any special animadversion. The instances re- 
main yet to occur, probably, where a profession of reli- 
gion has been assumed in this country for the sake of 
office ; or where it would contribute to the attainment of 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OP CHRIST. 223 

office. Nor is there reason to believe that the profession 
of religion is often, if ever assumed, because it will clothe 
a man with additional influence, or will facilitate the ac- 
quisition of wealth. The power which a man can wield 
in the church in this country is too inconsiderable to 
make it a prize to be purchased by known hypocrisy ; and 
those who are intent on becoming rich will derive too 
little advantage from a profession of religion to make it 
an object to be purchased at the expense of a good con- 
science. I have been a pastor now more than sixteen 
years, and it has been my business to observe, as I was 
able, the lives of those who profess Christianity. And I 
cannot recall an instance in which I have seen evidence 
that the profession of religion was assumed, because it 
would elevate a man to office, or aid him in becoming 
rich. I have seen instances where it seemed to me, and 
still seems, that men were deterred from making a pro- 
fession of religion because there might be apprehension 
that it would interfere with the hopes of office ; or throAV 
around them restraints which they would rather avoid in 
the acquisition of wealth. The conclusion which has 
been pressed on my mind has been, that ten men are 
deterred from making a profession of religion from an 
apprehension that it would interfere with their worldly 
interests, for one who professedly embraces Christianity 
from any hope of honor, or emolument. 

But I have seen many, who, without any violation, as 
I trust, of that charity which hopeth all things and is 
kind, seemed to me to be strangers to the transforming 
and elevating principles of the religion which they pro- 
fess. In looking at the evidences of piety as laid down 
with such simplicity in the New Testament, it has been 
so forcibly impressed on the mind that all those evidences 
were wanting, that it was impossible not to come to the 
conclusion that there was an utter mistake in their cher- 
ished hopes, and in the profession which they made. 
To this conclusion, the mind and heart of a pastor will 
slowly and reluctantly come. But having come to this 
conclusion, he is guilty of unfaithfulness to the master 
whom he serves, and to the souls which he would save, 
if he fails to express his apprehensions, or to tell his 



224 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

hearers "often," and "even weeping" that "many walk 
who are the enemies of the cross of Christ, whose end is 

DESTRUCTION." 

There is nothing more fitted to excite commiseration 
than this. If we see a son cherishing from year to year 
a delusive expectation that he will be heir to a great 
estate ; and in the mean time, on the ground of this, 
making no preparation for the life which he must lead 
when thrown upon his own resources, our feelings to- 
wards him will be those only of pity, and of grief. If 
we see a man lying on a sick bed with every mark of 
approaching death, yet clinging to life ; if we see the 
body waste away, and the hectic on the cheek, and hear 
the admonitory voice of the physician, and yet see the 
emaciated sufferer indulging in day-dreams of returning 
health, we have but one feeling in relation to the deluded 
man — not of severity but of tenderness ; not prompting 
to rebuke, but exciting to tears. And so when we see an 
immortal soul cherishing the delusive hope of the " adop- 
tion" into the family of God, and of " the inheritance of 
the saints In light," can there be other than the language 
of pity ? When we hear a man speak of treading the 
green fields of heaven, of slaking his thirst in the river 
of life ; of reposing beneath the trees ever green in the 
Paradise above ; of wearing the diadem, and of being 
clothed in the flowing robes of heaven ; and then reflect 
that all this is the language of a lost, and still unransomed 
soul, is there a heart so hard as to use the language of se- 
verity, and are there eyes so unused to pity as to withhold 
their tears ? 

If it should be said that it is not reasonable to sup- 
pose that, when the delusion is not to be traced to 
voluntary hypocrisy, a God of mercy will recompense 
the error with everlasting torments, I ask how it is in 
other matters ? I look at the great principles of the divine 
administration as they are developed in the world. I ask 
whether the fact that men are deceived, in the ordinarv 
course of events, will make them safe from suffering. 
or turn aside the regular penalty of law ? I see the 
man who is cherishing the delusive hope that his world- 
ly affairs are prosperous, and who gives no heed to 
the admonitions of his friends. He is not benefited by 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 225 

the cherished delusion, but ruin and bankruptcy come 
upon him with a step steady as time. I see a young man 
confident in the vigor of his constitution ; unwilling to 
believe that he endangers his health by a course of dis- 
sipation ; deceived about the strength of his own princi- 
ples, and spurning the sober counsel of wisdom and of 
age. Nor is he benefited by his delusion, but he sinks 
like others to the woes and curses of the drunkard's grave. 
I see the pale, emaciated man clinging to life ; cherishing 
the delusive hope that his disease will yet depart from 
him ; and anticipating future days of health, and plea- 
sure. Yet the disease is not stayed by his delusion. It 
approaches steadily the seat of life. Unawed, unrebuked, 
unarrested by his delusions, the destroyer is levelling the 
poisoned shaft, and the man finds the cold damps of death 
standing upon his brow even while he cherishes the hope 
of living long. So it is every where. The laws of na- 
ture and of God, operate with steady and unchanging 
power. They hasten to their end. When violated in 
regard to health, or morals, or property, or salvation, they 
have a penalty which is not met by self-deception ; and 
which will not be driven back by the sunshine and calm 
of fancied security. Man must pay the forfeit; and 
neither in regard to his worldly affairs or to religion, will 
self-deception turn aside the penalty, or interpose to shield 
the body or the soul. 

II. The existence of such persons in the church is a 
subject of regret and of tears, from their influence. This 
I shall illustrate in a few particulars. It is, 

(1.) The loss of so much positive strength to the cause 
of the Redeemer. For it cannot be denied that those of 
whom I am speaking often embody not a little of the 
wealth, the talent, and the actual influence of the church. 
Nor can it be denied that, when this is the case, this very- 
fact gives them a melancholy conspicuity, and promi- 
nence. If those who sustain this character possess an 
influence that spreads far through the political or com- 
mercial world ; if they have power to excite to energy 
mighty masses of mind, and that talent is a dead weight 
on the church, the fact cannot escape the public observa- 
tion, and be felt in all the interests of the church of Christ. 
If they whose power is felt most deeply in the commercial 



226 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

or political world, are entirely inactive in the church ; if 
while they are known every where else, they are unknown 
here except in the bare record of their names ; if nothing 
will rouse them to even a temporary interest in the spirit 
ual affairs of the church, it is just so much abstraction of 
that which professedly belongs to Christ ; and there can be 
no wonder if it diffuse a chill and paralysis over all the 
interests of religion. It is melancholy to reflect on what 
might be done in the church of Christ if all its members 
had the burning zeal of Paul, or the ever-glowing and 
pure love of John ; and then to remember that the designs 
of Christian enterprise — the conversion of the soul — the 
cause of revivals — the salvation of the world — lack the 
counsel, and the prayers, and the friendly co-operation of 
those who are best qualified, under God, to carry them 
forward. Paul spake of such with tears ; nor is it easy to 
withhold such expressions of grief when a man reposes 
in the bosom of a church, bearing simply the name of 
Christian ; a stranger to its feelings, to its plans, and to 
its spiritual peace ; a man whose power is felt in the 
political and commercial world always ; in the religious 
world — NEVER. 

(2.) Their influence in the church is a subject of grief, 
because it tends to discourage the true friends of God. 
There are not a few in all Christian churches, who are 
sincere and humble Christians. They love the Saviour 
who died for them. They have not merely in form, but 
in sincerity, devoted themselves to his service. Their 
hearts pant for the spread of the gospel ; and their most 
fervent desires are for the salvation of sinners, for the 
peace and happiness and purity of the church, and for 
the conversion of the world. Their purest joys are con- 
nected with the reign of Immanuel, and they wish to live 
on/i/ that by their influence and prayers, they may do 
something for the furtherance of his gospel on the earth. 
Their language is, in sincerity, 

I love thy kingdom, Lord, 

The house of thine abode 
The church our blessed Redeemer saved 

With his own precious blood. 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 227 

If e'er to bless thy sons 

My voice or hands deny, 
These hands let useful skill forsake, 

This voice in silence die. 

For her my tears shall fall, 

For her my prayers ascend, 
To her my toils and cares be given, 

Till cares and toils shall end. 

Now it is not needful to dwell on the discouragement 
which ensues when the irresistible conviction comes over 
the mind, that a professed brother or sister in the church 
has no interest in these things ; — that they have no pray- 
ers to offer for the conversion of sinners ; no tears to shed, 
like the Saviour, over the dangers of lost men ; no cheer- 
ing counsel for those who are endeavoring to do good ; no 
aid to offer to the pastor in his great office, and no re- 
joicing when souls are converted to Christ. It is as if, in 
the struggle for liberty, a few should brave every danger, 
encamp on the cold field, and expose themselves to death, 
while professed friends should sit and look from their 
palace windows on the struggle without sympathy, and 
without a tear when brave men bleed. 

But this is not the only cause of grief. It is not from 
mere discouragement because they are left to toil alone. 
For the Master has said, " he that is not with me, is against 
me ; and he that gathereth not with me scattereth a broad. " 
In this strife between sin and holiness, heaven and he]l, 
there is no neutrality. And it adds to the sadness of the 
scene, when they who are the professed friends of Christ 
not only stand aloof, but seek to build up that which true 
Christians labor to destroy, and to destroy that which God 
is endeavoring to build up. When the real friends of 
Christ are endeavoring to promote revivals of religion 
and the conversion of the world, and his professed friends 
are always found to countenance the views of the enemies 
of Christ, and to coincide with the men of the world, it 
adds to the grief of the friends of the Saviour by all the 
sorrow that attends violated friendship, and forgotten 
plighted love. " I was wounded in the house of my 
friends, and he that hath eaten bread with me hath lifted 
up his hand against me," was the tender language of the 
much injured David. " It was not an enemy that did it, 



22S PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

then I could have born it. But it was thou, a man mine 
equal, my guide and mine acquaintance j we took sweet 
counsel together and walked to the house of God in 
company." Ps. lv. 12, 13. And when too the professed 
friends of Christ are found the patrons of those things 
which his real friends are endeavoring to remove from 
the world as hurtful to health, and morals, and the salva- 
tion of the soul, can it be otherwise than a matter of 
grief? Can a house that is divided against itself stand ? 
And does not a kingdom that is divided against itself fall? 
In one portion of the church there shall be prayer, and 
toil, and tears to discountenance and destroy the works of 
the devil ; and if in another the professed friends of Christ 
are doing just what the enemy of souls, of revivals, of 
humble piety, and of the world's redemption would wish 
them to do, how can it be otherwise than a subject of 
grief and of tears ? 

(3.) The deportment of such professors of religion gives 
occasion for the reproach and opposition of a wicked 
world — and it is, therefore, a cause of grief and tears. 
For the great mass of men ever have derived, and ever 
will derive their views of the Christian religion not from 
the Bible, but from the lives of its professors. Rarely 
will they take up the Bible to learn the nature of Chris- 
tianity from the pure life, or holy precepts of its founder ; 
and rarely will they be convinced that that religion which 
does not in fact produce renovation of the heart, and 
holiness of life, can be from heaven — nor should the}' be. 
And though we can point them to many instances of con- 
sistent piety; though we can refer them to multitudes of 
cases where Christianity has in fact reformed the profane, 
the sensual, and the proud, yet the influence of one in- 
consistent professor will more than neutralize the argu- 
ment drawn from the consistent walk of ten who are 
ornaments to their high calling. The thoughless, ungodly 
world has an interest in keeping the lives of the ten hum- 
ble and holy Christians out of view, and in fixing the 
attention on the one professor that is a disgrace to the 
Christian name. 

This reproach is unanswerable. The fact alleged is un- 
deniable ; and the attention is easily fixed on some profes- 
sor of religion with whom the objector has had business of 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 229 

a worldly nature, where he has found him as close as other 
men ; where he has seen a spirit as grasping ; where he 
has witnessed some departure from moral honesty; where 
a promise has not been kept ; or where there has been a 
case of overreaching, or of fraud. And where such a case 
can be referred to, it is all that the man of the world 
asks ; and the force of argument with him is at an end. 
In vain may we press upon his attention the argument 
for Christianity from miracles and prophecy ; in vain 
refer to the pure life and precepts of its founder ; in vain 
appeal to its obvious and indisputable effects in reforming 
the world ; in vain urge on the man that he should judge of 
religion by its precepts and recorded principles in the Bible, 
and that it is unfair to hold the whole system answerable 
for the faults of its professed friends, in vain is all this 
urged — for the inconsistent professor occupies the whole 
field of vision before the objector. It is all that he sees, 
or will see, or can be made to see ; and the reasoning 
falls on heavy ears, and on a heart in respect to our ar- 
guments just like adamant. All the objections which / 
ever hear against religion are drawn from the inconsistent 
lives of its friends. All the obstacles which are thrown 
in my path in endeavoring to urge the gospel personally 
on the immediate attention of sinners are drawn from 
this quarter. 

I (4.) Their influence is a matter of grief because it is 
the occasion of the loss of the souls of men. They who 
are in the church without any religion are a stumbling- 
block over which others fall into perdition ; and to the 
guilt of the ruin of their own souls, is to be added that 
if being the means of the everlasting ruin of others. 
This follows inevitably. They do not adorn the religion 
which they profess to love by their lives; they convey 
3rroneous ideas of it every step which they take ; they 
io not exert a Christian influence over their children, 
md friends, and fellow-sinners ; their example and con- 
versation is just that which the world desires to make it 
piiet in sin; they are pursuing just the course which 
Satan desires them to pursue in order that the sons and 
laughters of gaiety and folly should not be alarmed ; and 
heir whole influence is adapted to make the world 
houghtless, and unconcerned, and prayerless. An un- 



230 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

o-odly parent thus adds to his own destruction that of his 
children : and unless special mercy interposes, a whole 
family in hell shall be the sad argument to illustrate the 
effects of being deceived in the church. We can conceive 01 
no more affecting image of the inexpressible wretchedness 
of the world of despair, than when we think ot a child 
thus reproaching a father or a mother as the cause of his 
ruin. < You were a professor of religion. Your example 
and views of life ; your conducting me to scenes of fash- 
ion and gaiety, when the mind should have been im- 
pressed with the thoughts of God ; your neglecting to 
acquaint me with the Saviour of the soul, is the cause 
why I weep amidst these inextinguishable fires. But for 
that inconsistent, and unholy life of her that bare me, I 
should now have been among the blessed, and heaven 
would have been my eternal home. But these hor- 
rors ! These deep, eternal burnings ! A father has led 
me there ; a mother has guided my footsteps down to 
death!' r ^ . 

III. The existence of the enemies of the cross of Cnnst 
in the church is fitted to excite regret and tears from the 
slender probability that they will ever be converted and 
saved. Paul's grief arose mainly from the fact which he 
expresses, that their "end was destruction." It is evi- 
dent that he did not anticipate their conversion. Judas 
Iscariot was three years with the Saviour, under his direct 
ministry, and was not converted. In the account which 
our Saviour gives in the parable of the tares, it is evident 
that he did not suppose that they who were deceived in 
the church would ever be converted. " Let both grow 
together until the harvest," said he ; not, ' let the tares 
remain amidst the wheat with the hope of a change,' but 
"let both grow together until the harvest, and in the 
time of the harvest I will say to the reapers, Gather ye 
together first the tares, and bind them in bundles to burn 
them." Matth. xiii. 30. Joshua had no hope that Aehan 
would be converted, and he was accordingly destroyed. 
God had no expectation that Nadab and Abihu would be 
converted, and the earth opened and swallowed them up. 
Peter had no hope that Ananias and Sapphira would be 
converted if they remained in the church, and the judg- 
ment of heaven was manifested in their death. And the 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 231 

current representations of the Bible may be appealed to 
as a proof that the conversion of a man in the church is 
an event scarcely contemplated, and for which no pro- 
vision has been made. 

An appeal to fact would sustain this conclusion. Amidst 
the evidence which we cannot resist that there are many 
such in the church, how rare a thing is it that even one 
abandons his falsely-cherished hope, and becomes a sin- 
cere believer. The die seems to be cast, and the destiny 
sealed. The profane, the profligate, the dissolute, the 
moral, the aged, and the young, the rich and the poor, 
are converted by hundreds around them, but no Sun of 
righteousness visits the Greenland of their souls, or re- 
moves the deep darkness which blinds their minds. The 
gospel is borne to other lands, and the benighted pagan 
hails its coming, but it has no consolations for the de- 
ceived professor, and its pleadings and its thunders die 
away alike unheeded on the ear. 

This melancholy fact may be accounted for in a word. 
The condition of a deceived professor is unfavorable to 
conversion. He dreams of a heaven to be obtained with 
an imhumbled heart, without self-denial, and without 
bearing the cross, and he is unwilling that the pleasing 
dream should be disturbed. His fancied security shields 
him from all the appeals which are made to men. The 
exhortations which are addressed to sinners to repent and 
to believe the gospel he does not apply to himself, for he 
does not professedly belong to that class. The arguments 
which are urged on Christians to lead a holy life ; the 
motives which are urged from their inextinguishable love 
to the Saviour, he does not regard, for he has none of the 
Christian's feelings, and none of his real desire to glorify 
God the Redeemer. Belonging not to the world profess- 
edly, and not to Christians really, the appeals of divine 
mercy for the salvation of the soul almost never reach 
the heart, alarm the conscience, or arouse to hope or fear. 
Yet it is fancied security, not real. It is that kind of se- 
curity which a man will take, who, when JEtna or Vesu- 
vius should cast forth lurid flames, and heave with an 
approaching eruption, instead of fleeing to the distant 
plain, should be content with reposing beneath a tree at 



232 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

its base, and hiding his eyes, and stopping his ears, should 
regard himself as secure. 

Here I close the consideration of this text. In conclu- 
sion I shall make two remarks. 

(1.) The first is, that there is an obvious propriety 
for honest self-examination. The necessity of this is 
urged upon us by all the worth of the undying soul ; 
by all the value of the blood of Christ ; by all the appre- 
hensions of a dreadful hell. On this of all subjects we 
should be most honest with ourselves ; and yet on this of 
all subjects we are prone to take up with slightest evi- 
dences. The solicitude of the merchant to save his affairs 
from bankruptcy, is untiring ; the advocate toils to gain 
his cause, and the physician to save his patient ; the 
farmer has no rest till the title to his land is without a 
flaw. Yet that merchant, perhaps, will feel no solicitude 
that his eternal interests may not be bankrupt ; nor that 
professional man feel any concern that he is in danger of 
losing his soul ; nor the farmer that his title to heaven is 
insecure. On the very point where we should suppose 
there would be most interest felt, there is often the least ; 
and the last thing to which immortal man, in the church 
or out of it, can be roused, is the worth of his own soul. 

Were it thus in other cases, we should be impressed 
with the folly. Let a man be seized with disease, though 
not immediately alarming, and let it be suffered to run 
on without care or anxiety until death shall lay its cold 
hand on him, and we do not doubt its folly. Yet how 
many are under the influence of the incurable disease 
of sin, who allow themselves to be deceived ; who listen 
to no language of entreaty to examine ; and who will 
soon find that their hopes of heaven have been founded 
on the sand ! Once more, I may be permitted, not in 
form, but in the soberness of sincerity and of love, to 
entreat you to be willing to know the worst of the case. 
If deceived, be willing to know it, and to seek mercy 
before it shall be too late. If we are Christians let us 
know it, and let our lives testify accordingly. 

(2.) Let me address one word to those' who are not 
professors of religion. I beseech you not to make the 
follies, and sins, and self-delusions of others the means of 
your own destruction. You, as well as professed Chris- 



ENEMIES OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 233 

pans, whether they are deceived or not, are advancing to 
the same burial-place of the dead, and to the same judg- 
ment-seat. You will stand before the same God, and 
give up an account, not for them, but for yourselves. 
" Every man shall give account of himself to God." It 
will constitute no safeguard to you that they are deceived. 
It will diminish none of the terrors of death, that your 
wife or child was deceived, and must perish forever. It 
will be no ground of acquittal to you, if they are lost. I 
will add, it will furnish no consolation to you in hell — 
no, not the drop of water to cool the parched tongue — 
should they go down to be your everlasting companions. 
To your own master you stand or fall. They may be 
deluded ; you certainly are. They, in cherishing a hope 
of life to which they have no claim ; you, in supposing 
that no preparation is necessary, and that there is no 
heaven or hell beyond the grave. You, deluded amidst 
the gaieties, and fascinations, and the jostling plans, and 
the vain expectations of happiness in this world ; they 
in the church in regard to the hope of heaven. But what 
then ? Are you safe ? Hear me. When all the delu- 
sions of life shall have vanished ; when we shall be sum- 
moned to attend to the sober reality of dying, and of 
going on the journey up to God, and giving in the solemn 
account at his bar, and of entering a world where there 
is no delusion, it will remove none of the sad realities 
of those scenes to remember that others were deluded as 
well as you, and that they, as you anticipated, sunk down 
to the world where " are hypocrites and unbelievers." 
But let me ask you, my friend, a question. What if their 
hopes should be well-founded ? What if it shall appear 
that you alone are deluded and deceived ? What if they 
rise to heaven, saved by the hope which they now che- 
rish ? What if, notwithstanding all the difficulties of the 
way, and the delusions around them, and their many 
doubts and fears, they are able to bear the scrutiny of 
the All-seeing Eye in the great day ? Solve me this ques- 
tion, I beseech you — " If the righteous scarcely be saved, 
where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear ?" 
20* 



SERMON XVI. 

THE RULE OF CHRISTIANITY, IN REGARD TO CON- 
FORMITY TO THE WORLD. 

Rom. xii. 2. And be not conformed to this world. 

I do not know a more difficult passage in the New 
Testament than this ; and I enter upon the discussion of 
it with very little hope of being able to furnish a satis- 
factory solution of the many inquiries which may be 
made respecting its meaning, "and its application. What 
is conformity to the world— is the question which imme- 
diately presents itself on reading the text. It is easy to 
see that a command so plain as this appears to be, may 
give occasion to a great variety of opinions. Every 
Christian may have an " interpretation," and "a doc- 
trine" of his own. Every Christian denomination may 
have its own rules. One will insist on confining it to the 
feelings and general spirit of the man ; another will main- 
tain that it refers only to the vices and crimes of the 
world ; a third will extend it to its gaieties ; a fourth will 
affirm that it extends to every article of apparel ; and a 
fifth to the ordinary intercourse and courtesies of life. 
Many will demand that the rich shall abandon their 
houses, their furniture, and their equipage, and come 
down in all these things to the level of their neighbours ; 
and many of the rich may deem their neighbours undulv 
self-mdulgent in their manner of life. All of us can see 
some things in which we judge others to be too much 
conformed to the world; and most of us have many 
perplexing questions pertaining to our own dut V as Chris- 
n ??u' ^J° ™ 6 den l ands of this and other similar texts 
of the Bible. Most of us probably are satisfied that there 
has been and is in the church, too much conformity to 
the world. Our fellow men who are not Christians, often 
reproach us on this subject, and demand that we should 
be less conformed to the follies and vanities in which they 

234 



CONFORMITY TO THE WORLD. 235 

freely indulge. Poor compliment they pay to their own 
conduct and discretion ; and a sad employment to blame 
others for that which they feel at liberty to practise. 

Amidst these conflicting opinions, I have little hope of 
traversing a perplexed and difficult inquiry with entire 
clearness and satisfaction. If I can excite thought on 
the subject among conscientious men, one part of my 
object will be gained. If I can establish some principles 
by which we are to interpret the text, I shall do all that 
I hope to be able to effect. It would be easy to declaim 
on this subject ; and it is always easy to utter unmeaning 
and loose denunciations against Christians for conformity 
to the world. There may be occasion for all the severity 
of reproof ever uttered ; but after all, the inquiry arises, 
what is the duty of Christians, and by what principles 
shall they judge of the text ? 

The following inquiries I shall attempt to answer : 

I. To what does the rule apply ? 

II. What in the text is it designed to reach and effect ? 

III. What are the proper principles of its application ? 
1. To what does the rule apply? Here, also, many 

questions might be asked. Was it intended to be limited 
to the time of Paul, and to that peculiar age of the world ? 
Christians, especially at Rome, were then placed amidst 
the luxuries and gaieties of a refined, a vicious, and an 
idolatrous age. To conform to that age, would be to coin- 
cide with the splendor, pride, ambition, fashion, and even 
corrupt principles of a generation peculiarly wicked and 
vain. Christians were expected to be separated, and to 
constitute a distinct community. The difference between 
them and others was to be marked, open, decided, and 
there could have been little difficulty in applying the rule. 
But the aspect of the world has, in some respects, 
changed. Idolatry is banished. Its altars are overthrown. 
Christianity has diffused intelligence, refinement, kind- 
ness, and a thousand kindred virtues through the commu- 
nity. It has elevated society much nearer to its own 
standards ; and it is asked whether the rule is still to be 

pplicable ? If so, in what respects, and to what extent ? 
Yet on the question of the applicability, or jurisdiction of 

he rule, there can be no doubt. It is unrepealed. There 



236 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

was no intimation that it was to be confined to that age, 
or to any peculiar age. Other directions respecting Chris- 
tians have a similar meaning. " Love not the world 
neither the things that are in the world. If any man love 
the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all 
that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of 
the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but 
is of the world." I John ii. 15, 16. " No man can serve 
two masters ; for either he will hate the one, and love the 
other ; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the 
other. Ye cannot serve God and Mammon." Matth. vi. 
24. "For do I now persuade men or God? or do I seek- 
to please men ? for if I yet pleased men, I should not be 
the servant of Christ." Gal. i. 10. " Know ye not that 
the friendship of the world is enmity with God ? Who- 
soever, therefore, will be a friend of the world, is the 
enemy of God." James iv. 4. The text is, therefore, 
manifestly a precept of the divine law that is to extend 
its jurisdiction over all the times, and places, and circum- 
stances to which it may apply, until the peculiar commu- 
nity called the world, shall be extinct. 

But if applicable to all times, to what class of actions 
does it apply ? Is it to the dress, the mind, the heart, the 
demeanor, the conversation, or to all ? Is it to be limited 
to one class of these objects, and then to cease in its in- 
fluence, or is it to extend every where ? I answer, it is 
like all other divine laws. They are given in a general 
manner, and are to be. interpreted on the same principle. 
The general principle of the laws of God is, that they 
are first to be applied to the heart and conscience, and 
then to follow out all the conduct, and extend their juris- 
diction over all. Human law is satisfied if it can control 
the external deportment, and preserve the peace and 
prosperity of the community. Divine law, extends its 
purpose of control to the heart. If a proper influence 
can be exerted over that, it supposes that all will be well ; 
and the text is evidently one of the laws of Christian 
conduct, enacted on this principle. The terms of the law 
are applicable either to the mind, or to the external de- 
portment ; to the feelings, opinions, and principles of 
action, as well as to the dress, and conduct of life. Its 



CONFORMITY TO THE WORLD. 237 

direct aim therefore, is the heart ; its indirect, and com- 
plete aim is reached only when it controls the entire de- 
portment. 

It is still asked lohat place in the code of Christian 
laws is this rule designed to occupy ? Here I answer, 
1. The design of this law is not to keep Christians 
from open vices and crimes. That is placed on better 
defined ground ; and it is presumed that Christians cannot 
commit them. Those things which are absolutely and 
grossly evil, are made the subjects of express statute. 
Crime is specified, and absolutely forbidden. It is not 
left to a rule so easily perverted; so capable of abuse and 
variation, as the simple injunction, not to be conformed to 
the world. It is expressly declared that men shall not be 
idolaters, or profane, or Sabbath-breakers, or haters of their 
parents, or liars, or adulterers, or thieves, or drunkards, 
or revilers, or false witnesses, or covetous. 1 Cor. vi. 9, 
10. Gal. v. 19. 21. Eph. v. 4, 5. Heb. xii. 14 ; xiii. 4. Rev. 
xxii. 15. Ex. xx. Whatever may be the conduct of the 
world on these subjects, the law of God is positive, and 
explicit. 2. The command in question is not designed to 
teach Christians that they should not coincide with the 
world in any respect, or on any subjects. It is not to be 
considered as enjoining singularity for the sake of sin- 
gularity. Such a purpose would be unworthy any 
legislator. Unless the thing forbidden was either wrong 
in itself, or was attended with bad consequences, it would 
be the evidence of tyranny or caprice, not of wisdom, to 
demand separation. The conformity then, is to be pre- 
sumed to be in those things which would be injurious 
to the object which the lawgiver had in view. The matter 
of fact is, that there are many things in which Christians 
and others may, and must, externally at least, coincide ; 
and in which to affect singularity, would be to counte- 
nance evil. When the apostle directs Christians to think 
of" whatsoever things are true, and honest, and just, and 
pure, and lovely, and of good report ;" (Phil. iv. 8.) he 
evidently supposes that in these things Christians are to 
coincide with others. Thus also it is in respect to industry, 
charity, temperance, courtesy, meekness, order. 2 Tliess. 
iii. 10. Rom. xii. 10, 11, &c. I Pet. ii. 17; hi. 8. Rom. 



238 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

xiii. 7, 8. Gal. v. 22. If the men of the world are in- 
dustrious, Christians are not to be directed to be idle; 
if they are temperate, Christians are not to be intem- 
perate ; if they are courteous, Christians are not to affect 
rusticity, or to violate the proper rules of refined inter- 
course. On these, and a thousand kindred subjects, Chris- 
tians and the world are to coincide ; nor does religion, 
common sense, or good mora]s, demand or permit singu- 
larity. But 3. There is a large class of objects and actions 
which come under neither of these denominations, which 
are not fixed by absolute statute, and which it might yet 
be proper to prohibit, or in which there might be de- 
manded a separation from the world. To make laws on 
them all, would be endless. These actions and feelings, 
the principle of the text is designed to influence and con- 
trol. The general principle is settled, and the application 
is to be made by the conscience of each Christian, on his 
own responsibility. These actions pertain to the greater 
part of our lives and intercourse. It is not often that a 
man will be called on to apply the statute respecting 
murder to himself, perhaps never ; but the principles of 
religion pertaining to his daily conduct, need to be care- 
fully applied to the ever varying forms and allurements 
of the world. You may never have occasion to apply 
to yourself for example, the ninth commandment; but 
there is a large territory of acts — a vast field over which 
some law should be extended, which cannot be reached 
by the decalogue, or by any direct statute. Such are all 
those acts and emotions pertaining to dress and style of 
life ; to modes of intercourse ; to gaiety and fashion and 
equipage ; to the governing purposes of the heart in rela- 
tion to our intercourse with men ; to the rules of business ; 
and to that endless variety of things in which the men of 
the world consider it no harm for them to indulge, and in 
which they indulge freely. Now over this broad terri- 
tory — this vast and ever varying presentation of objects 
and things, God has left the simple direction, " be not 
conformed to this world." The principles of the life are 
not to be formed by the opinions of the world. The rule 
is designed to occupy this vast region of thought and 
feeling, over which there could not be the formality of 
express statute for every thing. It is a kind of balance 



COXFOSAIITT TO THE WORLD. 239 

wheel to the whole, to preserve it in order : and a general 
direction, that in relation to ail these things, the opinion 
and conduct should not be formed by the views c I 
men of the world, but by other principles. The I 
then, I suppose, is one not confined to the age of Pan] 
was not designed to control things in themselves absa- 
lutely criminal, and subject to express statute : not de- 
signed to promote singularity for the sake of singularity, 

and to separate Christians from the world in things w 

are proper: bnt was designed to reach and control the 
conduct, the feelings, and deportment in that vast variei r 
of things which the world may present from age to a^e 
as objects of pleasure, gaiety, business, luxury, splendor, 
or ambition. 

II. Our second enquiry is, what the rule is? A few 
remarks may enable us to understand this 

1. There is a difference contemplated between Chris- 
tians and other men — a difference pertaining to principles 
of action, to feelings, to laws, to destiny. 1 Cor. iv. 7. 
2 Cor. vi. 14. 17. Isa. lii. 11. Rev. xviii. 4. The whole 
arrangement by which this dirterenee is produced and 
promoted, shows that it is not one oi trirlmg magnitn ie 
or importance. To produce it, cost the labors oi the Son 
of God, •'•' who gave himself for us, that he might re- 
deem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a pe- 
culiar people, zealous of good works.*' Titus ii. 14. '-Bat 
ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy 
nation, a peculiar people: that ye should s .: . : : 

praises of him who hath called you out of darkness : ..:: 
his marvellous light/' 1 Pet. ii. 9. To advance this 
calls into exercise all the means of grace, and all the 
direct operation of God on the human mind. While as 
men we have man}' things in common with other men, 
yet as Christians we are expected to possess something 
original and peculiar. There is no change in the human 
mind so great, thorough, and abiding as that of regenera- 
tion. John hi. 1. 7— compare Eph. ii. 10: iv. 24. There 
is no kingdom more different from all other kingdoms, 
than the enrpire of Christ over the soul is unlike all other 
empires. u My kingdom is not of this world." is his lan- 
guage, (John xviiiT 36. y and while we may have many 
things in common with others, yet as Christians his em- 



240 PRACTICAL SER3IOXS. 

pire over us is to be regarded as original and peculiar. 
His law is to form our opinions and practice, and his will 
to influence our conduct. 1 John ii. 3, 6. The world 
may be governed by its own laws. The laws of fashion 
may control one portion ; the laws of honor another ; 
the laws of ambition a third. One community may frame 
its conduct by a set of artificial statutes, meaning or un- 
meaning, which may have been agreed on respecting the 
intercourse of the theatre, the ball-room, or any other 
place of amusement or of business. Another community - 
is under the influence of the laws of honor — so called — 
and those laws are understood, and capable of being writ- 
ten down. The Christian community rises in the midst 
of all others — subject to laws of its own voluntarily as- 
sumed, and claiming that their jurisdiction should be ad- 
mitted to extend over all the thoughts and doings of the 
life. It claims that no other community should be allow- 
ed to originate statutes for the government of Christians, 
or modify their laws, or demand their submission to its 
mandates. It claims original jurisdiction over the whole 
soul and body, and sternly rebukes the interposition of 
the communities under the influence of the laws of honor, 
fashion, or vice, if they come in with a claim to modify 
or repeal the original and independent statutes of the 
Christian community. Christianity regards all such inter- 
ference as aggression. If they coincide with Christianity 
in any thing, or in every thing, it is well, and Christians 
are not to affect singularity. If they differ, the Christian 
community has another rule by which it is governed. 
Now the essential idea of the rule which I am wishing 
to explain, is, that Christianity has original jurisdiction 
in all these cases : that the laws of the Xew Testament 
are the last appeal : and that as far as this community is 
concerned, its statutes are to govern — nor are they to be 
modified by any intrusions of the laws of any other com- 
monwealth. 

I do not know that I present the idea clearly. Let me 
attempt further to illustrate it. I have a family in a gay, 
wicked, thoughtless city. I am surrounded by families 
which have different views altogether from those which 
I have on the various subjects of employments and mo- 
rals. As the head of that family, I give laws by which 



CONFORMITY TO THE WORLD. 241 

I expect it will be influenced. Around me may be one 
family governed by the laws of fashion ; another by the 
laws of honor; a third, perhaps, by certain arbitrary 
rules which pick-pockets and highway-men have set up. 
I do not interfere with them ; nor do I say that in no 
respects shall my family coincide with them. If they 
have any thing commendable, I shall not denounce it, 
nor demand that my children shall affect singularity. I 
shall not demand affected singularity in quaint and un- 
usual modes of speech ; in an inconvenient, or a ridicu- 
lous style of dress ; or in an unnatural and forced gait or 
demeanor ; or in a disgusting or an odious tone of utter- 
ance, for the mere sake of singularity. I expect my 
children will obey my original laws, and remember that 
/have the jurisdiction in the premises. If my neighbor 
presumes to legislate in the case, and demands that my 
family shall forsake my laws ; if he affirms that my sta- 
tutes are stern and harsh, and should be modified — that 
is a question for me to consider, not for him to legislate 
on. Just so it is with Christianity. Christ has establish- 
ed a set of laws, and demanded a certain course of life. 
If the members of any other community, or of fifty 
others, should in many things, or in all things, coincide 
with what' religion would produce, the Christian is 
not to affect singularity in the case. The question is, 
whether I am adhering to the laws of the peculiar king- 
dom by which I am governed, and not whether others 
are falling in with those laws also. What effect would 
the Christian religion produce if obeyed by the entire 
community, and if its principles were suffered to be acted 
out every where ? That is the question ; and not what 
compound and motley system of enactments can be form- 
ed into a code, by amalgamating Christianity with the 
artificial rules which regulate your communities of the 
gay and fashionable, of the proud and ambitious. 

Let us take another illustration. Lycurgns framed a 
code of laws for Sparta. He had an object, in his eye in 
each one of his statutes, and he Resigned to rear a pe- 
culiar community. It was not the love of singularity ; 
it was not a wish to differ from others for the mere sake 
of being different. It was with reference to his great 
object — to make the Spartans valiant, hardy, laborious, 
21 



242 



PRACTICAL SERMONS. 



daring freemen. With this ohject in his eye, he framed 
his laws; and this design was understood by every 
Lacedemonian. Suppose, now, he had left some such 
direction as the text—' Be not conformed to surrounding 
nations, or even to the other republics of Greece.' The 
command would have been intelligible. It would not 
mean, < do not in any thing coincide with others, for 
they may be temperate, and laborious, and valiant, as 
well as you, and in this do not affect singularity Their 
conduct in this respect is just what is required of you 
Do not pursue it because they do, but because it wili 
contribute to the great designs of the republic/ The com- 
mand would forbid conformity to other people, if that 
conformity should interfere with the purpose of the Spar- 
tan lawgiver. It might easily be seen that even the arts 
ot Athens, the extensive attention to statuary and orna- 
mental architecture, might not consist with the main de- 
sign ot the Lacedemonian. Innocent as they might be 
in themselves, or consistent as they might be in the mem- 
bers of the republic of Athens, yet should the Lacede- 
monians turn their attention to statuary or to the fine arts 
as a people, they would abandon the peculiar design of 
their lawgiver in making them a hardy and valorous race 

JJrT™' ? W ^ ld easi1 ^ be Seen " that the delicacies 
wd refinements of Corinth; its fashion and splendor, its 
w^iTl amusements, as well as its licentious habits, 

ZIm^ 81816114 ^ thG desi - n 0f the S P artan 
™ r the y were wel] /*r the Corinthian was another 
question ; and a question which it did not pertain to the 
Whafw £tF% S^^ of a diiferent kind 
111 Lit IT- 11 °f the laW ^ iver ? And are ^se things 
S* f hlS Pkm and ° bvious directions ? His dl 
Sr f°w UP a peCllHar community, and every 
ffiEi t communit y ^s qualified to judge of 

tlSth? ^templated that no other one-not 
prTump to n confede / ated republics of Greece, should 
presume to come m and legislate for his people If his 

&i5^4£^Jp their -- -d co h n! 

Sto-Si J Y - W ° U H be confo ™ed to, not be- 
cause they were the views of Athens or Corinth but 
because hey contributed to the great purpose of the La 
cedemoman lawgiver. I n no else hKfy a rfht to" 



CONFORMITY TO THE WORLD. 243 

originate laws for his people, or to demand that his laws 
should be conformed to their views. 

Thus with the Christian. If the views and conduct of 
others coincide with his, it is well. If they do not, they 
ire not at liberty to come in and demand that he shall be 
conformed to them. He has higher laws, and a higher 
Dbject. He has a purpose which strikes on to eternity. 
His aim is to prepare for heaven. Theirs, to live for 
time. Nor can they claim jurisdiction over conduct that 
ias been directed by the Son of God, and that he has 
judged best in ordering his peculiar community. The 
simple question is, whether a proposed course of conduct 
3r opinion is consistent with the spirit and life demanded 
by the King of Zion. 

The amount of the rule, as I understand it, is, that no 
Dther society or authority is permitted to originate laws 
3r opinions that shall control the Christian. The first 
ict of his religion is to submit to the laws of Jesus 
Christ, and to forsake all others that are inconsistent with 
lis. Acts ix. 6 ; xvi. 30. No matter from what commu- 
lity they have been derived, they are to be abandoned. 
Be it from the society of the vicious ; the men of honor 
3r of ambition ; the pleasure-loving, the rich or the gay ; 
:>r even from a beloved parent or friend, if inconsis- 
;ent with the pure spirit of the gospel, they are to be 
abandoned. Acts iv. 19, 20; v. 29, and Luke xiv. 26, 
God is raising up a peculiar community — an empire, 
imidst many other empires ; a kingdom in the midst of 
3ther kingdoms — a kingdom of seriousness, and prayer, 
md love, amidst the kingdoms of the gay, and dissipated, 
ind the worldly. His kingdom, though surrounded by 
others, is designed to be peculiar — not for the love of sin- 
gularity, but because all such designs involve singularity. 
Thus the Athenian was singular ; the Spartan was sin- 
gular ; the Corinthian was singular ; the Roman was 
singular. Thus, too, the votary of pleasure is singular, 
md the follower of fashion is singular, and the man seek- 
ng wealth and honor has his own views about things, 
md is peculiar. Each society has its own laws ; and the 
dngdom of God is not designed to take its complexion, 
samelion like, from surrounding objects, but to derive its 
peculiar features from the laws of the Son of God. If 



244 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

the Christian community is singular, it is not because God 
loves singularity, but because the world has gone out of 
the way, and its maxims are an improper guide for those 
who are seeking to save their souls. If this be the mean- 
ins, therefore, of the rule, we are prepared— 

III. To enquire on what principles it may be applied ? 

I might be contented with observing here, that this is 
the appropriate business of every Christian ; and that 
God has made him responsible for the honest application 
of the rule to all his conduct. No small part ol our pro- 
bation consists in ascertaining whether we are disposed 
faithfully to apply the rule, or whether we are disposed 
to be governed by every change of fashion, by every 
scene of amusement, bv all the allurements of gaiety and 
of wealth. It would s'eem that the rule was of easy ap- 
plication, and that the examination of ourselves on this 
head would be one of the least difficult parts of the Chris- 
tian enquiry. But I may be permitted here briefly to 
specify a few principles on which the rule is to be ap- 
plied. Remember, here, that I speak to Christians— 
those who belong to that original and peculiar commu- 
nity which the Son of God came to establish. You will 
remember also that I claim no infallibility here, or cer- 
tainty that I am right. I suggest these principles as they 
seem to me to be demanded by the rule. 

1. You are not to regulate your feelings and views, 
your apparel and manner of living, your conversation 
and deportment, with a view of leading the world in 
their own ways of vanity, pleasure, and ambition. iou 
are not to seek to be distinguished in the manner in which 
they seek to be distinguished, and for which alone they live. 
The people of the world arc tending to a different destiny 
from the Christian. It matters little in what way they go 
—whether through the ball-room, the theatre, or any other 
scene of vice and sin — they are going to their own home, 
and it is a sad procession, however gay or gorgeous, 
where a Christian moves at the head of the thoughtless 
throng that is sporting down to hell. 

2. You are not to regulate your opinions, and feelings, 
and conduct, by the people of the world. You are not 
to approve of a thing because they approve of it : to do 
a thing because they do it ; to love a thing because they 



CONFORMITY TO THE WORLD. 245 

love it ; or to hate a thing because they hate it. They 
have their own views of these things, and you are to 
have yours — or rather you are to imbibe the views of the 
Son of God. ^With the feelings which the world has 
about the objects of life, a thousand things may be con- 
sistent which would be repugnant to the laws of the 
kingdom of Christ. While they think life is valuable 
only because it ministers to the 'appetites, or contributes 
to pleasure, numberless objects may accord with their 
notions, all which would interfere directly with the de- 
sign for which the Christian lives, and with the laws by 
which he is governed. If they have no other object in 
life but to be amused, or to be caressed or adored, it may 
be well to deck themselves, and sport over the grave. Their 
dance will soon be over. So have I seen in the beams of 
the western sun, as he sank behind the hills, thousands of 
gay insects sporting in the departing rays— joyous in the 
mazy dance, and unconscious that they were in the last 
beams of the parting day — and perhaps in the last fleeting 
seconds of a very brief existence. Soon the sun withdrew 
his beams, and darkness came over the earth, and the 
dance was ended, and also their life. Another generation 
may play in those beams to-morrow. But this one is gone. 
So the gay and thoughtless world moves on to darkness 
and to death. The scenes of their festivity are soon to end, 
and darkness will cover them, and in the sunshine of 
gaiety and fashion they will be seen no more. All the 
joy they saek or desire is included in the brief summer 
sun of their earthly being— the fast fleeting moments of 
fashion, pride, and folly here. To seek supremely for 
adorning and admiration, in the scenes of gaiety, and of 
sin, and of amusement, without prayer and without God, 
may have a most melancholy consistency with their views 
of human life. But for you who are living for eternity, 
and looking for an everlasting dwelling in that world 
which has no need of the moon, nor of the sun ; amidst 
the splendors of that world wggre the Lord God and the 
Lamb are the light thereof, such amusements and gaie- 
ties may be follv ; may be worse— may be crime. 

2. If in any of your views and deportment you coin 

cide with the world, it will not be because they do it, but 

because it will be best. I know that this principle may 

31* 



246 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

be difficult to be understood, and may be abused. Still 
it may be the correct principle in the case. Let me illus- 
trate it. In many things, as I have remarked, you may 
coincide with the world. You are industrious. So are 
they. But your industry is not because the world re- 
quires it, but because it is best. It is required by the law 
of your religion. You are temperate, so may they be. 
But you are temperate, not because this is the fashion of 
the world, but because your religion demands it. You 
are courteous, polite, kind. So may be, externally at 
least, the people of the world. In this you may coincide. 
But you are not thus because they are. You do not do 
it, because they have originated it, or because they have 
the right to dictate its forms. You do it because it is the 
nature of your religion. It prompts to kindness, truth, 
courtesy, tenderness of feelings and character, mutual 
respect, civility. It enthrones on the heart of the Chris- 
tian what may sit loose in form only, around other men. 
It gives vitality to what elsewhere may be a mere 
shadow. And if the world changes its views on this 
subject, and adopts any system of intercourse that may 
consist well enough with its views of morals, you are not 
at liberty to follow it if it is a departure from the spirit 
of Jesus Christ. A mere votary of the world, for exam- 
ple, who has no idea of morals but a certain artificial 
and shapeless standard adopted for convenience, may in- 
corporate a thousand falsehoods and evasions into his 
system, and make a show of deception a part of his well 
understood rules of intercourse. For his, or her purpose, 
and in accordance with his or her views of truth, it may 
be consistent enough to say, or to instruct a servant to 
say, that they are not at home, when they are at home ; 
or to say that they are sick, When they not sick ; or that 
they are engaged, when they are not engaged. For a 
man or a woman who is devoted to the service of the 
God of truth, it becomes a different matter. The question 
of conformity to the world in this thing, comes up with 
reference to the inquiry how it will appear before Him 
who cannot lie, and where it will be too late to deceive. 
You are regular, decent, comely in your apparel, and 
your style of living. It is not because the world does it, 
but it is the nature of religion to produce this in a com- 



CONFORMITY TO THE WORLD. 247 

munity. It elevates and refines; produces order, and 
personal neatness and propriety of living. It does not 
require the man of wealth to seek the wigwam of the 
Indian, or the hut of the Laplander. It does not require 
him to become a hermit ; nor would it change the Chris- 
tian community into monasteries. It does not say that 
the Christian prince or man of wealth should clothe him- 
self in rags, or deny himself the ordinary comforts con- 
nected with the rank of life where God has placed him. 
It demands that he should carry out the influence of reli- 
gion on that rank of life — that he should live and act in 
a certain manner, not because the world does it, but be- 
cause Christian propriety demands it — because if the Chris- 
tian religion were extended to the entire community, 
there would be men who had wealth, who would still be 
Christian men ; there would be men of professional skill 
and talent, who would be Christian men ; and in that rank 
of life, it would be as easy to apply the principles of the 
gospel to what a man has, and does, as it would be in a 
far inferior station. Christ never denounced differences 
of rank in life. He never engaged in the project of the 
dissatisfied and disorganizing Roman people, in the de- 
mands for an Agrarian law, nor in the covetous schemes 
of modern infidelity to break up all ranks in society, to 
denounce the rich, or to demand that all property should 
be reduced to a mass to be subject to the arts of a cunning 
and unprincipled leader. He designed a scheme of reli- 
gion adapted to the existence of various orders in the 
community. He demanded that the principles of the rich 
should no more be modeled after the judgment of the 
world, than those of the poor. Live, and feel, and act in 
this situation of life, is the language of his gospel, so as 
in the best way to evince the influence of the gospel in 
the rank of life in which you are placed. 

4. A fourth obvious principle in which Christians will 
apply the rule is, that their views and feelings will not be 
prompted by a desire to elicit the applause and approba- 
tion of the world. Your conduct will be regulated by a 
higher law. It is not to produce admiration, envy, rival- 
ship, flattery, competition, that you live ; it is not to be 
the subject of conversation, commendation, or praise ; it 



248 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

is to please God. If the kingdom of which you are a 
member stood alone ; if the empires of this world were 
wholly removed to other abodes, your conduct would 
then be regulated by the Bible. So should it be now. 
This is one of the plainest applications of the rule. And 
yet if honestly applied, what a sad invasion would it 
make in the Christian church ! Remove from the follow- 
ers of Christ all that has been assumed for the purpose 
of being admired by one another and by the world ; all 
that has been the result of envy, and rivalship ; all that is 
adjusted to catch the passing gale of applause ; all that 
comes under the denomination of the lust of the flesh, 
the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, and a most 
fearful flight would be given to numberless ornaments, 
and a most sad invasion would be made on the style of 
living in every Christian community. Stripped of the 
meretricious decorations which the world has persuaded 
and enjoined the church to assume ; dressed in the virgin 
purity which the Son of God has prescribed for it, it 
would at once rise to elevated influence, and be clad hi 
beauty and in honor. We are not to be guided by the 
world. But there is an old Roman maxim, that it is right 
to be taught by an enemy. And if in any thing it would be 
right to listen to the people of the world it would be in 
this; not what ihey wish us to be, but what they understand 
our religion to require. Glad would they be that every 
Christian should be like themselves. But well do they 
know that religion demands a difference, a great difference, 
an eternal difference, and well do they understand that 
this difference should be manifest in the life. And never 
do they utter sentiments more worthy of the attention of 
Christians than when they denounce us as fools or hypo- 
crites for conformity to their own senseless and vain 
opinions about the scenes of gaiety and ambition — about 
the theatre, and the ball-room, and the trifles by which 
they contrive to amuse themselves in the brief summer 
sun in which they are moving to a world of wo. Chris- 
tians have a better inheritance ; and much and well do 
the men of this world marvel that they find their plea- 
sures in their scenes of gaiety and folly. 

5. A fifth principle of the rule. It forbids all mingling 



CONFORMITY TO THE WORLD. 249 

with the world which is inconsistent with the great objects 
of the kingdom of Christ, or which will not on the whole 
tend to promote it. It is not needful to state what those 
objects are. They are known to all Christians. They 
may be summed up in a desire to become personally 
assimilated to Jesus Christ, and to bring our fellow-men 
to the hope of the same Heaven. They demand of course 
the spirit of prayer, of seriousness, of self-denial ; the 
faithful discharge of our duties in all the relations of life ; a 
conscientious appropriation of our time, our influence, and 
our wealth; a faithful meeting of all the demands made 
on us as Christians and as men. God has given us enough 
to do ; and if we follow his will we shall not be oppressed 
with useless time, or afflicted with ennui. Now with 
this desire to do precisely what will be approved by the 
mind of Christ, we may apply the rule before us _ It 
will be a test of the propriety of a thousand things which 
mio-ht otherwise be the subject of much debate. It will 
constitute a nice tact by which we may approach a great 
variety of objects without danger of error. A cnild can 
much more easily decide whether a thing will be accepta- 
ble to the mind of his father, than he could settle its pro- 
priety by argument. The inhabitant of Sparta could see 
at once that many things were inconsistent with trie 
design of his republic, which he could by no means settle 
in an abstract manner. Whether the aim of the Athenian 
was proper, or the mild and soft pleasures of the Corin- 
thian, he might not be able to settle by argument, but 
this would not be the way in which to train up the 
Lacedemonian. So it might become a question of abstract 
casuistry about a thousand scenes of amusement. It 
would be easv to argue by the hour in favor of parties oi 
pleasure, and' theatres, and ball-rooms, and all the vanity 
of fashionable life, and the mind might "find no end in 
wandering mazes lost." But apply the rule before us, 
and all mist vanishes. Since the beginning of the world, 
no professing Christian ever dreamed that he was imitat- 
ing the example of Jesus Christ, or honoring the Christian 
religion in a theatre, a ball room, or a splendid party oi 
pleasure. And equally clear would be the decision m 
reference to multitudes of pleasures which it is needless 
to specify. If these things were favorable to the designs 



250 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

of the founder of Christianity, they might, and should 
have been enjoined. But how singular would have been 
such directions in the New Testament ! How marvel- 
lous would appear such a command when placed beside 
those which enjoin prayer, and spirituality, and humility, 
and self-denial ! If, by the patronage of such places, a 
man is promoting the Christian religion or the salvation 
of his soul, then they may be lawful. If they will not 
bear this test they cannot be right, and may be dan- 
gerous. 

6. A sixth principle or application of the rule, A 
Christian should have a spirit and temper above the things 
that influence his fellow-men. Though in the midst of 
these scenes, yet he may not be influenced by them. A 
man may have wealth, and it may be manifest that his 
affections are not supremely fixed on it. He may be sur- 
rounded by a thoughtless world, and yet be evidently 
living above it. Christianity produces a spirit that is 
elevated above these things ; that draws its consolations 
and its principles of action from far different objects. A 
man on the throne may be a Christian as really as in a 
cottage, and he may become a nursing-father to the 
Church with all the splendor of the diadem on his brow, 
and the imperial purple flowing in his train. Thus it 
may be manifest that Christianity is uppermost ; that the 
man of rank and wealth desires to imbibe its spirit, 
and to diffuse its blessings around the globe. Rules, you 
may not be able to give him, but to the man himself, and 
to all others, it may be clear that he is actuated by the 
love of God, and a desire to be useful to a dying world. 

Again. A man may be placed in circumstances which 
require him to live in a mode which to a poorer man 
might be deemed luxurious or extravagant. Of this no 
other man can be the judge. To his own master he stands 
or falls. But Christianity may be diffused over all his con- 
duct. Let him be at least as large and liberal in reli- 
gion as in other things. Let him "be the liberal patron 
according to his rank, and station, and wealth, of all that 
would promote the influence of religion, and the exten- 
sion of the kingdom of the Son ol" God in all lands. 
Thus it is that the spirit of the gospel may as really take 
up its abode in the mansions of wealth, as in the cottages 



CONFORMITY TO THE WORLD. 251 

of poverty ; nor is there any reason why it should not 
reign there, and interweave itself with all the incidents 
of life, as well as constitute the bright and lively details 
in the " short and simple annals of the poor." Conformity 
to the world may exist no more amidst those who are 
blessed with wealth, than with those in far obscurer life, 
and the man possessed of the riches of the Indies may as 
little think of it, or regard it, as those who live by toil 
from day to day. That religion has ever yet produced 
its appropriate influence on all those classes of men, I do 
not maintain. That the rule in our text may not be ap- 
plied to all classes, none can affirm. 

The conclusion, then, to which we have come is, that 
in this rule God has furnished a guide to numberless 
actions, and to the spirit of the life ; a rule which no man 
should apply to his neighbour, but which every man 
should honestly and perpetually apply to himself; a rule 
which you can take to all employments, and amidst all 
the enjoyments of life ; a rule which may show its influ- 
ence in the palace and the cottage — on the throne, and in 
the obscurest dwelling where resides a ransomed child of 
God. 



SERMON XVII. 

THE BLESSINGS OF A BENIGNANT SPIRIT. 
Coll. iii. 12. Put on, therefore, as the elect of God — kindness. 

What an invaluable blessing is a kind and benignant 
spirit ! Plow invaluable to an individual, in a family, in 
a church, in any community ! It is a spirit which the 
gospel is adapted to produce ; which serves much to re- 
move the asperities which are met with in life ; which 
contributes to happiness every where. My wish, at this 
time, is to illustrate its nature and importance ; and I 
shall show, 

I. In what it consists ; and 

II. Its value. 

I. Kindness, or a benignant spirit, consists in the fol- 
lowing things. 

(1.) In a disposition to be pleased— a. willingness to 
be satisfied with the conduct of others towards us. This 
disposition lies back of all external actions, and refers to 
the general habit of feeling. It is not that which is 
created by any sudden impression made on us, or by re 
ceiving from others any proofs of favor ; it is a previous 
disposition rather to be satisfied than dissatisfied ; rather 
to look on the favorable than the unfavorable side in the 
conduct of others; rather to suppose that they are right than 
to suppose that they are wrong ; and rather to attribute to 
them good motives than bad motives. It is such a dispo- 
sition that if we ever think unfavorably of others, it is 
because we are compelled to do it rather than because we 
wish to do it; such that any moment we would be wil- 
ling to listen to any explanation in extenuation of their 
conduct. 

This disposition contributes much towards our being 
actually pleased. It is usually not difficult to find enough 
in others that we can approve to make life pleasant and 
harmonious when we are disposed to ; and this dis- 
position will do more than all other things to make 

252 



THE BLESSINGS OF A BENIGNANT SPIRIT. 253 

social life move on with comfort and with joy. This 
disposition stands opposed to a spirit of fault-finding and 
complaining ; a temper which nothing satisfies, and which 
nothing pleases; a propensity to magnify trifles and never 
to forget them ; and a turn of mind that is irritable, and 
that is constantly chafed and fretted. For this latter state 
of mind we are now much in the habit of blaming the 
nervous system, and there can be no doubt that from the 
intimate connexion between the mind and the body, a 
disordered nervous system may have much to do with 
such a temperament. But it may be also true that the 
body is often blamed when the soul should be, and that 
the responsibility is often improperly changed from the 
heart to the nervous system. More frequently this dispo- 
sition is to be traced to long habits of indulgence ; to 
mortified pride ; to an overweening self-valuation ; to the 
fact that the respect is not paid us which we think we 
deserve ; to the fact that the heart is wrong, and the 
will obstinate and unsubdued. The spirit of the gospel 
of Christ would do more to eradicate this evil disposition 
than any physical applications to the nervous system, and 
it is the heart rather than the bodily health that demands 
appropriate treatment. A man who is willing to be 
pleased and gratified will in general pass pleasantly 
through life. He who is willing to take his proper place 
in society, content with the small share of public notice 
which properly belongs to an individual, and believing it 
to be possible that others may be as likely to be right in 
their opinions as he is, will usually find the journey of 
life to be a pleasant way, and will not have much occa- 
sion to be dissatisfied with the world at large. 

(2.) A spirit of kindness or benignity consists in a dis- 
position to attribute to others the possession of good mo- 
tives when it can be done. One of the rights of every 
man in society is, to have it supposed that he acts with 
good intentions unless he furnishes irrefragable proof to 
the contrary. This right is quite as valuable as the right 
to « life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" — and is 
essential to them all. He may do me a more palpable 
and lasting wrong who ascribes to me a bad motive, than 
he does who takes my purse ; and he has no more right 
to do the one than the other. Now there are many 



254 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

actions performed which may be either from a good or 
bad motive. There are many where the action may be 
attended with injurious consequences when the motive is 
good. There are many where the motive may be for a 
long time concealed ; where we may not be permitted to 
understand why it was done ; and where it may seem to 
have been originated from the worst possible intention. 
In all such cases, it is our duty to suppose that the motive 
was good until the contrary becomes so clear that it can 
no longer be doubted. Where an action may be perform- 
ed from either a good or a bad intention, it is a mere act 
of justice that we should attribute the correct and noble 
motive in the case rather than evil one — or at least that 
we should not assume that the motive was bad — for " love 
rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; bear- 
eth all things ; believeth all things ; hopeth all things : 
endureth all things ; and never faileth." 1 Cor. xiii. 
6, 7, 8. Yet there are some persons who seem never to 
have heard of this rule. The worst possible motive is at 
once suspected. The worst construction is given to an 
action. In the view of such persons every circumstance 
combines to lead to the conclusion that the motive was a 
bad one. Such persons, too, will have that unhappy 
species of memory which recollects all the ill of another, 
and forgets all the good ; and when an action is perform- 
ed of doubtful character, it is surprising what a number 
of similar deeds will be found to have been treasured up 
in the memory all going to confirm the suspicion that the 
motive was a bad one. Now a spirit of benignity and 
kindness will lead us to pursue directly the contrary course. 
The first impression on such a mind will be, that the action 
was performed from a good motive. That impression will 
be retained until there is positive proof to the contrary ; 
and will be confirmed by the recollections of the former 
life. The good will have been remembered ; the evil will 
have been forgiven and forgotten. Past deeds of unkind- 
ness towards you will be found to have been written in 
sand which the next wave washed away ; deeds of benefi- 
cence will be found to have been engraved on marble or 
steel. A kind memory has treasured up all the favors ever 
shown you — and now they come nocking to your recollec- 



THE BLESSINGS OF A BENIGNANT SPIRIT. 255 

tion, and help to throw the mantle of charity over the act 
now even if it be wrong. 

(3.) A spirit of benignity or kindness consists in bear- 
ing with the foibles, infirmities, and faults of others. We 
do not go a great distance with any fellow-traveller on 
the journey of life, before we find that he is far from our 
notions of perfection. He has a temperament different 
from our own. He may be sanguine, or choleric, or 
melancholy in his temperament, while we are just the 
reverse. He has peculiarities of taste, and habit, and 
disposition, which differ much from our own. He has 
his own plans and purposes in life ; and like ourselves he 
does not like to be crossed or embarrassed. He has his 
own way and time of doing things ; his own manner of 
expression ; his own modes of speech. He has grown 
up under other influences than those which have affected 
our minds ; and his habits of feeling may be regulated 
by his education, and by his calling in life. Neighbors 
have occasion to remark this in their neighbors ; friends 
in their friends ; kindred in their kindred. In proportion 
as the relations of life become more intimate, the more 
these peculiarities become visible ; and hence the more 
intimate we become, the more necessity there is for bear- 
ing patiently with the frailties and foibles of others. In 
the most tender connections, like that between a hus- 
band and wife ; a parent and child ; a brother and sister, 
it may require much of a gentle and yielding spirit to 
adapt ourselves to their peculiarities so that life shall 
move on smoothly and harmoniously. When there is a 
disposition to do this, we soon learn to bear and forbear. 
We understand how to avoid- the look, the gesture, the 
allusion, the remark that would excite improperly the 
mind of our friend. We dwell on those points where 
there is sympathy and harmony ; and we thus remove 
the asperities of character, and the feelings and affec- 
tions meet and mingle together. With any one of our 
friends there may be enough, if excited, to make life with 
him uncomfortable. A husband and wife — such is the 
imperfection of human nature — can find, if they will, 
enough in each other to embitter life, if they choose to 
magnify foibles, and to become irritated at imperfections ; 
and there is no friendship which may not be marred in 



256 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

this way if we will suffer it. The virtues of life are 
tender plants. Love is most delicate in its texture, and 
may not be rudely handled. To be preserved, we must 
cease to expect perfection. We must be prepared for 
little differences of opinion, and varieties of temperament. 
We must indulge the friend that we love, in the little pe- 
culiarities of saying and doing things which may be so 
important to him, but which can be of so little moment to 
us. Like children, we must suffer each other to build his 
own play-house in his own way, and not quarrel with 
him because he does not think our way the best. If we 
have a spirit of kindness, we shall cease to look for per- 
fection in any others; and this is much in promoting our 
own happiness in any relation of life. It will make us 
indulgent, and forgiving, and tender. Conscious of our 
own imperfection, we shall not harshly blame others; 
sensible how much we need indulgence, we shall not 
withhold it from them; feeling deeply how much our 
happiness depends on their being kind toward our frail- 
ties and foibles, we shall not be unwilling to evince the 
same indulgence towards them. 

(4.) A kind and benignant spirit is shown by our not 
blaming others with undue harshness when they fall into 
sin. In no circumstances does frail human nature need 
more of the kindness of charity and forgiveness — no 
where usually is less benignity shown. We weep with 
the father who has lost his only son ; we sympathize 
with the man who has lost his all in a storm at sea ; we 
compassionate him who is deprived of the organs of 
vision or of hearing, to whom the world is always dark, 
or who is a stranger to the sweet voice of wife or child, 
or to the soul-stirring harmony of music. But when a 
man is overtaken by a fault, all our sympathies at once 
usually die. We feel that he has cut. all the cords that 
bound him to the living and the social world, and that 
henceforth he is to be treated as an alien and an outcast. 
We exclude him from our social circles. We strip him 
of office. We bind and incarcerate him. We place him 
in a dark, damp, cold dungeon. We feed him on coarse 
fare. We separate him from wife, and children, and 
home, and books, and friends. To a certain extent all 
this is inevitable and proper. We owe it to ourselves ; 



THE BLESSINGS OF A BENIGNANT SPIRIT. 257 

we owe it to the community. But we need not with- 
hold our kindness from an offending brother. We need 
not withdraw all the expressions of benignant feeling. 
" Brethren," says Paul, " if a man be overtaken in a fault, 
ye which are spiritual restore such an one in the spirit of 
meekness, considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted." 
Gal. vi. 1. " Love surfereth long and is kind ; love is not 
easily provoked : thinketh no evil ; believeth all things ; 
hopeth all things." Let the following things be remem- 
bered when a brother is accused of a fault. (1.) He is 
a brother still. He has the same corrupt, fallen, ruined 
nature that we have — and originally no worse. " John 
Bunyan, but by the grace of God," was the honest ex- 
pression of the author of the Pilgrim's Progress, when 
he saw a poor victim of profaneness and intemperance. 
That erring, guilty, and wretched man — that man of 
guilt, and profaneness, and crime, is thy brother. You 
and he had the same father. The same blood flows in 
your veins and his. That wretched female— that frail 
and guilty woman — is thy sister. You had a common, 
erring mother. She once had sympathies like thine own. 
She once had a heart that could love and be loved, like 
thine. She had a mother that loved her as thine loved 
thee. She once was playful, and blithe, and happy, when 
a child — and perchance beautiful and accomplished, as 
others are. Fallen, and ruined, and guilty as she may 
be, she is not beyond the possibility of being saved ; she 
is not beyond the reach of prayer. For the soul of that 
same guilty and erring daughter of vice, the Saviour's 
blood was shed as well as for thine own ; and the " kind- 
ness and love of God our Saviour" may yet recover even 
her, and make her a companion with thyself in glory. 
Remember (2.) that when another seems to fall into sin, 
if you understood all the circumstances of the case, its 
aspect might be greatly changed. " Judge not, that ye 
be not judged ; condemn not, that ye be not condemned," 
was the command of the Master. Luke vi. 37. " Above 
all things have fervent charity among yourselves ; for 
charity shall cover the multitude of sins." 1 Pet. iv. S. 
Remember (3.) that when a brother seems to err or fall, 
it is possible that an explanation may remove all the 
difficulty. Give him that opportunity. It is due to him. 
22* 



258 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

Appearances, which he could not control, may have been 
sadly against him; and malignant enemies may have 
helped the matter on. It is dne to him to allow him a 
fall opportunity to explain all. A kind spirit would make 
you ready to listen ; and the same spirit, when he has 
confessed his error — if he has done wrong — would lead 
you to say, ' My brother, I forgive you. The offence 
shall be remembered no more. I will forgive you as Christ 
hath forgiven me. Your fault shall not be alluded to in our 
intercourse ; it shall not be allowed to make me unkind, 
or suspicious ; and I will never refer to it to harrow up 
your feelings, or to suffuse your cheeks with shame. So 
Christ hath forgiven me ; so I forgive you.' (5.) A kind 
and benignant spirit is that which prompts us to aid others 
when in our power. It wishes well to the stranger ; to the 
wayfaring man ; to the fatherless ; to the poor ; to the pri- 
soner ; to the oppressed. It looks rather on considerations 
why they should be aided than on those why they should 
not be; and asks the question, not how much we must 
do for them, but how much we may do. On the man who 
has failed in business honorably to himself, or without 
dishonor, it looks with benignity, and asks in what way 
he may be assisted, and not how his fall may be accele- 
rated. The poor man at the door it meets with the en- 
quiry whether he may be assisted consistently with other 
duties and obligations. For the man in oppression, it 
seeks relief when it can be done, and prompts to mea- 
sures to secure it. When relief is almost hopeless, still it 
looks benignantly towards the sufferer, aud is willing to 
listen to any suggestions for his aid. It does not lead us 
at once to sit down as if nothing can be done — appalled 
by the magnitude of the evil, or indifferent to it ; nor 
does it lead us to favor the opinion that all attempts at 
relief are improper, or to be abandoned. 

I may add, on this point, that where relief cannot be 
afforded, it should be declined with a gentle and bene- 
volent heart. It often happens, from the necessity of the 
case, that we must decline aid to the poor, to the needy, 
to the stranger, and to the cause of humanity and religion 
at large. Circumstances put it out of our power to assist 
them. But it mitigates the evil if benevolence beams in 



TtfE BLESSINGS OF A BENIGNANT SPIRIT. 259 

the eye, and gentleness and love dictate the terms by 
which it is done. It may become pleasant even to have 
an application rejected. It may be done with so much 
good will and sincerity ; where it is so evident that the 
heart is in it ; where there is such a manifest wish that 
the circumstances were different, that the pain of the re- 
fusal shall all be taken away, and good shall be done to 
the soul even where the aid sought for the body could 
not be granted. We are often troubled by applications 
for aid — I say troubled, from their frequency, and be- 
cause we allow them to trouble us. We are liable to 
constant solicitations of this sort — solicitations all of 
which we cannot comply with. It can neither be right 
for us, nor would it be possible for us to comply with 
them all. Part of those who apply to us for assistance 
we know ; part are strangers whom we may never see 
again. Yet we are to remember that most of them are 
children of misfortune. Many of them have by nature 
sensibilities as keen as we ourselves, and they will feel 
a cold look and a stern repulse as much as we. We are 
to remember, too, that not a few of them suffer more from 
the necessity of asking assistance than from almost any 
other ill of life. Long will a widowed mother suffer from 
poverty and want, before she will go to the stranger to 
seek assistance. Long would she suffer still rather than 
do it, but it is not her own sufferings that prompt her to 
it ; — it is the cry of her children for bread, the desolation 
of her home without fuel, and without food, and without 
work, that compels her to subdue her strong reluctance 
to solicit charity, and she does this under a depth of min- 
gled, agitated emotions which the affluent never know, 
ff to all this there is now to be added the cool repulse ; 
;he harsh, forbidding look ; the refusal even to hear the 
simple story of her sufferings, and the sufferings of her 
children, and if she is to return and say to them that no- 
hing can be obtained for them — and to see them weep 
md suffer the more by disappointment, you infuse the 
Ditterest dreg into her cup of woes. Christian kindness 
k vould have mitigated all ; Christian kindness might have 
prompted to that little aid from your superabundant 
vealth, which not being missed in your dwelling, would 
lave made hers to her like Eden. The same thing is 



260 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

true when help is asked for any object of beneficence 
The man who asks your aid to relieve a people suffering 
the evils of famine ; or to help a family whose all ha 
been consumed by fire ; or to liberate a slave from bond 
age ; or to enable a man to purchase his wife or children 
in order that they all may be free together ; or to senc 
the preached gospel to the heathen world, has a right to 
a kind reception. On his part it is a work of benevo 
lence, in which he is usually no more interested than wl 
are — and in doing it he may have overcome much reluc 
tant feeling, and sacrificed many comforts, from the strong 
conviction of duty. He has a right to expect, where aid 
cannot be granted for his object, that his feelings shall 
not be harrowed up by an uncivil and cold reception. If 
aid is declined, he has a right to expect that it should b< 
in gentleness and love — so declined that it may be plea- 
sant for him and for you to meet when your circumstances 
shall be better. 

(6.) Once more. A kind spirit should be shown to- 
ward those who are applied to for aid, and who decline 
to assist us. Here, I fear, we walk sometimes not chari- 
tably toward others. We apply to them for assistance 
and are refused. How natural to feel that there was 
something unkind in it ! Especially is this so, if we see 
him to whom we apply live in a splendid house, and sur- 
rounded with the means of luxury ; or if we find him 
engaged in a large business ; or if we see him rolling 
along in his carriage. And it may be difficult to avoid 
the conviction that he might easily have assisted us, and 
that he is a man of a narrow and parsimonious spirit. I 
admit too, that in not a few instances this irresistible con 
yiction may be well founded ; and I admit, too, that there 
is always an inconsistency — a painful, and I believe a 
guilty inconsistency — where this style of living is main- 
tained, and where the hand is "systematically closed 
against the objects of Christian benevolence. But there 
is often much that may be said that would mitigate the 
harshness of your judgment. You see one side. But 
you may not know how much he is embarrassed in busi- 
ness ; or how much he secretly gives away to other ob- 
jects ; or how many poor relations he may have dependent 
on him ; or how imperative may be the demand on him 



THE BLESSINGS OP A BENIGNANT SPIRIT. 261 

just now to meet pressing obligations. For one, I am 
endeavoring to learn to exercise more charity for those 
who seem to me to be able, and who fall below the stand- 
ard in benevolence which I should regard as the true one. 
I think on two things ; first, that I do not know all the 
circumstances in the case ; and second, that to his own 
master each one standeth or falleth. It is his business, 
not mine. I can insist only as a right that he should 
show " kindness" — whether he give or withhold. In 
other things he must act as he shall answer it to God. 
Such are some of the things involved in kindness — a dis- 
position to be pleased — a readiness to impute good mo- 
tives — a patient bearing with the faults and foibles of 
others — a disposition not to blame them harshly when 
they fall — a readiness to aid, and kindness when aid can- 
not be rendered — and a charitable spirit toward those 
who refuse to aid us when we apply to them. Let us, 

II. In the second place, consider the value of this 
spirit. A few remarks will be all ; and with these I shall 
close. In illustrating this, I observe, 

(1.) That much of the comfort of life depends on it. 
Life is made up of little things that are constantly occur- 
ring, but which if disarranged or displaced render us mis- 
erable. Breathing is in itself a small matter, and ordinarily 
scarcely noticed ; the beating of the heart, and the gentle 
flowing of the blood are in themselves small matters, and 
it is only when they are deranged or laborious that we 
become sensible of their importance. So in morals and 
in social intercourse. The happiness of life depends not 
so much on great and illustrious deeds ; not so much on 
glory in the field of battle, or splendid talents, or brilliant 
eloquence, or the stern virtues that shine in daring 
achievements, as in the quiet duties that are constantly 
occurring. It is in the kind look ; the gentle spirit ; the 
peaceful, calm, contented disposition; the cheerful answer; 
the unaffected and unobtrusive interest in the welfare 
of others; the mild eye and the smooth brow which 
show that the heart is full of love. When these are what 
they should be, they are to social intercourse what unob- 
structed breathing, and the healthful flow of blood along 
the numerous arteries and veins of the body are to the 
vigor and comfort of the bodily system. Life cannot be 



262 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

happy, if it can be prolonged, without them ; and when 
these things do not exist, comfort dies. 

(2.) Usefulness depends on this no less than happiness. 
A man's usefulness in the Christian life depends far more 
on the kindness of his daily temper, than on great and 
glorious deeds that shall attract the admiration of the 
world, and that shall send his name down to future times. 
It is the little rivulet that glides through the meadow, and 
that runs along day and night by the farm-house that is 
useful, rather than the swollen flood, or the noisy cataract. 
Niagara excites our wonder, and fills the mind with 
amazement and awe. We feel that God is there ; and it 
is well to go far to see once at least how solemn it is to 
realize that we are in the presence of the Great God, and 
to see what wonders his hand can do. But one Niagara is 
enongh for a continent — or a world; while that same 
world needs thousands and tens of thousands of silvery 
fountains, and gently flowing rivulets, that shall water 
every farm, and every meadow, and every garden, and 
that shall flow on every day and every night with their 
gentle and quiet beauty. So with life. We admire the 
great deeds of Howard's benevolence, and wish that all 
men were like him. We revere the names of the illustrious 
martyrs. We honor the man who will throw himself in 
the " imminent deadly breach/' and save his country — 
and such men and such deeds we must have when the 
occasion calls for them. But all men are not to be useful 
in this way — any more than all waters are to rush by us 
in swelling and angry floods. We are to be useful in 
more limited spheres. We are to cultivate the gentle 
charities of life. We are by a -consistent walk to benefit 
those around us— though in a humble vale, and though 
like the gentle rivulet we may attract little attention, and 
may soon cease to be remembered on earth. Kindness 
will always do good. It makes others happy — and that 
is doing good. It prompts us to seek to benefit others — 
and that is doing good. It makes others gentle, and be- 
nignant — and that is doing good. 

Let it be remembered, also, that it is by the temper, 
and by the spirit that we manifest, that the world forms 
its opinion of the nature of religion. It is not by great 
deeds in trying circumstances that men will judge of the 



: 



THE BLESSINGS OF A BENIGNANT SPIRIT. 263 

nature of the gospel. The world at large cares little how 
Ignatius and Polycarp felt or how they died. Perhaps 
the mass of those around you never heard their names. 
They are little impressed by the virtues which Latimer, 
and Ridley, and Cranmer evinced at the stake. But that 
unbelieving husband cares much for the gentle and kind 
spirit of the wife — for all his happiness depends on it ; 
that brother is interested much in the conversation and the 
spirit of his sister — for he daily observes her temper, and 
is forming his views of religion from what he sees in her ; 
that child is constantly marking the temper of the father 
and the mother, and is forming his views of religion 
not so much from what he hears in the pulpit, or in the 
Sabbath-school, as from the temper which you evince 
from one day to another. In these fields — humble though 
they may seem, and little as they may appear to furnish 
a theatre for the display of eminent virtues — your useful- 
ness lies. There, with the " gentleness" that was in Christ 
you cannot but be useful ; and exhibiting such a spirit 
you will not live in vain. 

Let it be remembered, also, that all usefulness may be 
prevented by an unkind, a sour, a crabbed temper of 
mind. A spirit of constant fault-finding; a harsh-judg- 
ing temper; a constant irritability; little inequalities and 
perversenesses in the look, and air, and manner of a wife, 
whose brow is cloudy and dissatisfied her husband cannot 
tell why ; or of a husband chafed, and fretted, and morose 
when he returns home from his daily toil, and who is 
satisfied with nothing, will more than neutralize all the 
good you can do, and render your life any thing but a 
blessing. Some come into the church cursed by the fall 
with such a crabbedness of temper. Some have an un- 
manageable and perverse nervous temperament. Some 
are proud, and envious, and disappointed, and ambitious, 
and all these things are constantly breaking out in their 
professedly religious life ; and even amidst much that is 
excellent, these passions are so constantly showing them- 
selves that no one can tell whether there is at heart any 
true religion. Now you may give money for benevolent 
objects, but it will not prevent the injury which will be 
done by such an unhappy temperament. You may build 



264 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

churches, and found schools and asylums ; you may- 
have " the gift of prophecy, and understand all myste- 
ries, and all knowledge ; and you may bestow all your 
goods to feed the poor, and give your body to be burned," 
and all will not answer the purpose. It will all be like 
" sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal." Nothing will be 
a compensation for that " love which suffers long and is 
kind : — that love which envieth not, which is not soon 
provoked, which thinketh no evil, which beareth all 
things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all 
things, and which never faileth." 

(3.) And finally, this virtue is commended to us by the 
example of the Master — the Lord Jesus. " I beseech 
you," says Paul, " by the meekness and gentleness of 
Christ." II. Cor. x. 1. What an expression ! The 
gentleness of Christ ! How much is there in that 
short sentence ! How much to admire ; how much 
to imitate ! Christ performed great deeds — such as no 
other one ever did ; but not that we should imitate them. 
He spake to the tempest, and stilled the rolling billows — 
but not that we should lift up our voices when the wind 
blows, and the thunders roll, and the waves are piled 
mountain high, and attempt to hush them to peace. He 
stood by the grave and spake, and the dead man left his 
tomb, and came forth to life — but not that we should place 
ourselves by the graves of the dead and attempt to restore 
them to life. He opened the eyes of the blind, and taught 
the lame man to leap as an hart, and the tongue of the 
dumb to sing — but not that we should imitate him in this, 
or attempt by miracle to give vigor to the feeble, or health 
to the diseased. But Christ was meek and gentle, that 
we might be so too. Christ was benignant and kind, that 
we might be too. Christ patiently bore reviling that we 
might do it also ; he was not irritable, and uncharitable, 
and fretful, and envious, and revengeful— and in all 
these we may imitate him. His was a life of benevo- 
lence, diffusive like the light of a morning without 
clouds ; a life undisturbed by conflicting emotions ; un- 
broken by a harsh and dissatisfied temper ; kind when 
others were unkind ; gentle when the storms of furious 
passions raged in their bosoms ; and tranquil and serene 



THE BLESSINGS OF A BENIGNANT SPIRIT. 265 

while all around him were distracted by anger, and am- 
bition, and envy, and revenge. To us may the same 
spirit be given ; and while the world around us is agi- 
tated with passion, and pride, and wrath, in our hearts 
may there reign evermore "the gentleness of Christ." 
Amen. 



23 



SERMON XVIII. 

SECRET PRAYER. 

Matth. vi. 6. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and 
when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret ; and 
thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly. 

The sense of this text is plain. The Saviour is re- 
proving the ostentation and pride of hypocrites for the 
public manner in which they offered their prayers. In 
contradistinction from them he directs his disciples to go 
into a place where they would be alone with God ; where 
no eye could see them but his eye, and no ear could hear 
their voice but his ear, and there to pray to him who 
dwells in a world unseen by mortals. The subject, there- 
fore, which is now before us is, secret prayer. In con- 
sidering it, I shall direct your thoughts to the duty; to the 
proper times and modes of performing it ; and to the 
rewards or advantage of it. 

1. I begin with the duty of secret prayer. You will 
observe the peculiar manner in which this is mentioned 
in the text. It is apparent that the Redeemer meant to 
be understood as expressing his conviction that prayer 
should be offered to God. Yet he rather assumes as a 
matter of course that his followers icould pray, than posi- 
tively commands it ; and he gives no direction as to the 
frequency with which the duty is to be performed. It 
is thus much unlike the usual form of precepts in the 
Bible, and wholly unlike the rules which men would 
have prescribed. Mohammed specified the number of 
times and the exact hours when his followers should 
pray; and perhaps some would be disposed to ask 
whether the apparently lax and indefinite manner in 
which the Saviour has left the subject, would not be at- 
tended with the consequence that his followers would 
seldom pray, or would perform the duty in a most hurried 
and heedless manner. Where it was so easy to command 

266 



SECRET PRAYER. 267 

and to specify, was it the intention of the Saviour to leave 
it designedly indefinite ? If so, what object did he propose 
to secure by this ? These circumstances make it the more 
important to ascertain exactly in what way the duty is 
enjoined in the Bible. A few remarks will explain this 
part of our subject. 

(1.) The text may be regarded as having all the form 
of a command. The frequency with which prayer is to 
be offered is indeed not specified, but the duty of entering 
into the closet, and praying in secret to God, is enjoined ; 
and enjoined on the supposition that this would be done. 
The same thing is implied in James v. 13: "Is any 
afflicted among you? let him pray." Let him present 
his individual wants and desires to God; let him offer his 
secret and solitary supplications to him who hears prayer. 
So in Phil. iv. 6 :" In every thing by prayer and suppli- 
cation with thanksgiving, let your requests be made 
known to God." Men have individual wants, and 
troubles, and temptations. They have feelings which 
others cannot know, and which it is not desirable they 
should know, and which, therefore, are to be brought 
before God only in secret prayer. So in Eph. vi. 18. 
" Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the 
spirit ;" — that is, with all the usual modes of prayer, not 
limiting your supplications to the sanctuary and the 
family, but using all the ways of prayer in which you 
may present your wants before God. 

(2.) But it is more by example than by express precept 
that the duty is enforced in the Scriptures ; and that ex- 
ample was exhibited by all the holy men who walked 
with God on the earth. It will be sufficient to refer you 
to Jacob in his lonely wrestling with the angel of the 
covenant when on his way to a distant land ; to Abraham 
who stood alone before the Lord and prayed for Sodom, 
(Gen. xviii. 22) ; to David who said, " Evening and morn- 
ing, and noon will I pray and cry aloud ; and he shall hear 
my voice" (Ps. Iv. 17); to the author of the cxixth 
Psalm, who said, " seven times a day do I praise thee ; 
because of thy righteous judgments" (ver. 164) ; to Daniel 
who " kneeled upon his knees three times a day and 
prayed, and gave thanks before his God," (Dan. vi. 10), 
and to the example of the Redeemer himself. With the 



26S PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

Saviour's habits on this subject we are not indeed made 
fully acquainted. He himself enjoined secrecy in prayer, 
and the whole record of his life shows that he sought it ; 
and all that we can expect is some general intimation, 
showing that he was in the habit of secret prayer. We 
have just the record which we should anticipate. We are 
told, on one occasion, that " in the morning, rising up a 
great while before day, he went out, and departed into a 
solitary place and there prayed," Mark i. 35. On 
another occasion we are told, that " when he had sent 
the multitude away, he went up into a mountain apart to 
pray ; and when the even was come he was there alone." 
Matth. xiv. 23. On another occasion we are told, "that 
he went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all 
night in prayer to God." Luke vi. 12. His prayer also 
in the garden of Gethsemane was private, for he was 
withdrawn from his disciples before he kneeled down to 
pray (Luke xxii. 41) ; and the whole narrative, espe- 
cially in regard to the closing scenes of his life, shows 
that he was accustomed to retire from the busy city to 
some secluded part of the Mount of Olives that he might 
be alone with God. 

Now in regard to the Saviour's habits, we may remark 
that secret prayer with him was attended with all the 
difficulties which can ever exist in its performance. His 
professed followers often excuse themselves for neglecting 
it because they are away from home, and have no con- 
venient place for retirement. Yet no small part of the 
Saviour's life was spent in travelling from place to place ; 
and he had no home. We excuse ourselves because we 
find it difficult to retire from the gaze of man. But the 
Saviour was surrounded by multitudes who thronged his 
path ; and he retired to the mountain that he might be 
alone with God. We excuse ourselves because we are 
oppressed with business and care, and because we have 
no time to pray. Yet the Saviour, with the burden of 
redeeming the world upon him, felt so much the impor- 
tance of secret prayer that he rose up a great while before 
day that he might secure time for secret devotion. He 
was in a busy city ; he was as incessantly occupied as we 
can be ; he went from place to place as we often do, but 
he forgot not the duty of secret devotion, and he made it 



SECRET PRAYER. 269 

a matter 01 plan and study and self-denial that he might 
be alone with God. Fellow professor ! He had not a 
dwelling like yours where at any time he might secure a 
place of retirement for prayer. Amidst all the difficulties 
which can encircle our path he prayed in secret ; and he 
left a standing rebuke of the idle and the slumbering by 
his rising a great while before day for prayer. Let me 
ask of his followers, whether it would not be as easy for 
them to anticipate the dawning of the morning to pray 
as it was for their self-denying Saviour? Should they 
urge as an excuse for neglecting this duty that they have 
no time to pray when they spend the time which the 
Saviour sought for prayer in needless sleep ? When you 
feel disposed to urge this, let me entreat you to call to 
mind the image of the Son of God before the morning 
had shed a ray of light in the east, treading his lonely 
way to the mountain-side, that he might be alone with 
Him who hears prayer. Your redemption was sought 
by one who loved the devotions of the morning, and who 
denied himself of repose that you might be saved. 

(3.) The duty of secret prayer is enforced by the fact 
that we have wants which can be presented before God 
in no other way. Our prayers in the sanctuary must 
be, to a great extent, such as will meet the common 
wants of the entire congregation ; our prayers in the 
family, though not as general, yet will scarce allow a re- 
ference to the circumstances of individuals. We all have 
easily besetting sins ; we have thoughts and feelings 
which cannot with propriety be made known to others ; 
we have temptations which are peculiar to ourselves; 
and we have sadnesses, and sorrows, and fears, and trials 
of which others do not know, and which cannot be met 
by public prayer. A true Christian, moreover, will feel 
the necessity of more frequent communion with God than 
he can enjoy either in the family, the prayer-meeting, or 
the sanctuary. He will have desires and feelings which 
can be gratified only by prayer ; and he will feel his need 
of grace and strength that can be imparted only by direct 
communion with God. 

Yet I admit here, that the true question is rather one 
of privilege than of stern and iron-handed duty. The 
23* 



270 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

enquiry is not so much whether I ought, as whether I 
may pray. I am a lost sinner; a tempted, and a dying 
man. I have a heart that is by nature full of evil. I am in 
a world where I am every moment liable to go astray •, 
and the question is, whether I shall meet these tempta- 
tions alone and single-handed, or whether I may go to 
a God of infinite power and grace and implore his aid ? 
I am called to the discharge of great and arduous duties ; 
and may I go to God and ask him to shine upon my un- 
derstanding and my heart, and to furnish facilities for the 
discharge of those duties by the favoring events of his 
Providence ? I am about to die, and my whole nature 
shrinks back at the word death. Shall I go to meet the 
king of terrors armed by the little philosophy which I 
can assume ; and after all with no security that the dark 
valley will not be to me full of horrors, or may I now in 
the days of my health and strength go before God 
and ask him to prepare me for that dread hour, and 
secure his presence when I come to die ? These are the 
questions to be asked on the subject of secret prayer ; and 
if man has any right feelings, the answer to these ques- 
tions cannot be difficult. 

(4.) It is observable that the injunction on the subject 
of secret prayer does not specify the times when we are 
to pray. It does not say how often, nor at what time of 
the day, it is to be done. In this respect there is a strong 
resemblance between this command and that enjoining 
the observance of the Lord's supper. Both are to be 
voluntary services ; and in regard to both, the time when 
the duty is to be performed is left to ourselves. This was 
evidently not without design ; and the Saviour meant to 
accomplish what, could not be accomplished had he spe- 
cified the times when the duty was to be performed, or 
the length of the service. Mohammed undertook to 
regulate this matter. He enjoined prayer a certain 
number of times each day, and the consequence is a 
formal, and cold, and heartless, and ostentatious pros- 
tration of the body all over the regions where the re- 
ligion of Islam has spread. Christ meant that his religion 
should be voluntary. It was to be the religion of the 
heart. It was to be sufficiently powerful to secure the 
proper observance of his laws without needless par- 



SECRET PRAYER. 271 

ticularity. It was designed to be such that a test might 
be famished daily of our love to him, and our readiness 
to obey him. It is like the expressions of confidence and 
affection which we expect in our children. We do not 
specify how often they shall come and ask for favors, or 
how often they shall be admitted to our society ; — we 
cherish such a feeling, and expect from them such confi- 
dence in us, that they may come to us at any and at all 
times in their perplexities ; and we rejoice far more in 
the voluntary expressions of their confidence in us than 
we could in any constrained and prescribed service. 
Our prayers to God are to be voluntary. Whether they 
are more or less frequent, will be determined by the 
strength or feebleness of our religion ; and there is not 
to ourselves a better test of our attachment to God than 
the voluntary and frequent tribute which we pay to him 
in our secret devotions. Christianity is freedom — the true 
freedom. In its duties we are not to be fettered by set 
rules and formal services, but are to follow the prompt- 
ings of a renovated mind, and to yield a service that is 
to be a service of love. Yet there are some circumstances 
determined by the principles laid down in the Bible, and 
by experience, which may lead us in regard to the proper 
times and modes of performing this duty. They are such 
rules as would be desired by those anxious to know how 
they may most profitably engage in secret prayer; and 
as I wish to be useful to those who are desirous of doing 
their duty, I shall proceed to consider these rules. This 
was my. 

II. Second object. In the text but a single circum- 
stance is mentioned. It is, that we are to go into our 
closet, and that we are to be alone, or to secure secresy. 
In illustrating this, I would call your attention to a few 
points suggested by the circumstances of the case, or by 
what is obviously proper. 

(1.) There should, if possible, be a place to which we 
may retire where we may be alone with God. It was a 
custom among the Jews to prepare such a place in all 
their dwellings as an essential part of the arrangement 
of a house. There was with them, perhaps, somewhat of 
ostentation in this, but the principle was a good one ; and 
he who builds a house should secure some room where he 



272 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

may retire alike from his family and from the world, and 
be alone with God. There are times in the lives of 
all men when they wish to be alone ; there should be 
times every clay when we should withdraw wholly from 
the world ; and unless such a place of retirement can be 
secured, I see not that there can be the appropriate per- 
formance of this duty of secret prayer. To breathe forth 
a short and silent petition when lying in your bed, does 
not meet the case supposed by the Saviour, when we are 
to enter into the closet, and shut the door, and pray. 
With the Redeemer, a grove, a mountain, a garden, con- 
stituted such a place. Rather than forego it, he went 
before day to the mountain-side ; he walked at deep night 
to the grove ; he left the city, and sought out a garden 
where he might be alone. And we may as well do it as 
he. There need be no difficulty on this point. The love 
of secret prayer would create such places in abundance; 
and no one need pass a single day without securing re- 
tirement to pray to God. If there be not such a place, it 
is not difficult to foresee what will be the effect. There 
will be no regular secret prayer ; as I fear there is not by 
many who are members of the Christian church. 

(2.) There should be set times for secret devotion. It 
is true that the Saviour did not prescribe such times, but 
that does not make it improper that we should form rules 
by which to regulate our personal habits in this matter. 
When the times shall be ; how numerous ; or at what 
periods of the day, must be left, of course, to each indi- 
vidual. No one can give laws in religion where Christ 
has given none ; and the whole arrangement must be one 
that is voluntary on our part. The' reasons why there 
should be set times for secret devotion are almost too ob- 
vious to be specified. The world crowds hard upon us, 
and unless there is a time sacred to God in our estima- 
tion, it will all be stolen away by the cares of this life. 
We defer it, intending to secure 'time for the dutv, but 
company, and care, and pleasure, and light-reading, steal 
away the hours, and the day glides on, and this duty is 
forgotten. Of all things, our religious duties are most 
easily crowded out of their place; "and in not a few in- 
stances, it is to be feared, the duty of secret praver is de- 
ferred from day to day, until the Sabbath is almost the 



SECRET PRAYER. 273 

only period when there is even the form of secret devo- 
tion. If only on that day, I may remark also, it will be 
mere form, and will be most heartlessly done. He who 
suffers the week to be passed without secret devotion, 
will usually not find it difficult to devote the Sabbath 
morning hours to protracted slumbers, and the entire day 
to other matters than secret prayer. He does not mean 
always so to live ; but day crowds on day, and week on 
week, and his prayers are of the briefest nature, and of 
the most heartless kind. 

Some say they have no time for secret devotion. The 
men of the world have no time. Their hours are too 
much occupied with the important business of making 
money, and of dress, and pleasure, in the counting- 
room, and in the gay and brilliant party, to attend to such 
trifles as the soul's salvation, and to preparation for eter- 
nity. Nothing would be more unreasonable than to dis- 
turb so important purposes by asking them to devote 
their time to prayer. But I marvel that a professor of 
the religion of Christ should ever make this remark. For 
what do we live ? Whose is our time ? Who gave it to 
us ? To what have we devoted our lives ? What is 
the purpose for which we have a being ? What is to be 
our employment for eternity ? 0, professing Christian, 
the Saviour would have taken some portion of that time 
which you now spend in needless sleep, for secret prayer. 
He would have anticipated the dawning of the morn- 
ing, rather than forego this privilege. He would have 
taken some of that time which you spend in dress, 
or in business, or in plans pertaining to this life, rather 
than neglect this duty. I add that the Saviour would 
have taken some of those moments which you spend in 
conversation of no profit, rather than forego the privilege 
of secret prayer. Nor think that this would be lost time. 
" Since I began," said Dr. Payson when a student, " to 
beg God's blessing on my studies, I have done more in 
one week than in the whole year before." This accords, 
I apprehend, with the experience of all Christians. He 
who wishes for a clear head in pursuing business or study ; 
for an understanding quick to perceive truth, and a me- 
mory attentive to retain it ; for ability to spend his time 
profitably— not wasting his energies in fruitless pursuits, 



274 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

nor exhausting them in profitless speculations, will not 
find the time lost that is spent in prayer to that God who 
made the understanding, and who can give it just views 
of the proper proportion and value of things. He who 
wishes in business or in study for a heart justly balanced 
and pure, estimating objects according to their real value, 
superior to temptation and allurement, will not find his 
time lost that is spent hi seeking that a heavenly influ- 
ence may reign in that heart, and that God would pre- 
side over and direct all its feelings. 

(3.) In regard to the frequency of our secret devotions, 
without attempting to give rules where Christ has given 
none, I would observe that the folio whig are among the 
seasons when a true Christian, desiring to maintain a 
steady walk with God, and to become as eminent hi piety 
as possible, will regard it as a privilege to pray. 

(a) In the morning — the early morning hour. So the 
Psalmist prayed : " I prevented," that is, I anticipated 
" the dawning of the morning, and cried ; I hoped in thy 
word." Ps. cxix. 147. So the Saviour prayed — rising 
a great while before day. What more appropriate season 
for prayer? When just rising from a bed of repose, hav- 
ing been guarded through the silent watches of night, 
what more natural and appropriate than to go before God 
and render him thanks that the sleep has not been the sleep 
of death ? When the light again shines upon a darkened 
world, what more appropriate than to go to the Great 
Source of light, and ask that he will shine upon our path ? 
When we enter upon the duties, the trials, the toils of a 
new day, not knowing what shall befall us, what more 
proper than to commend ourselves to him who can guide 
our feet, and lead us in the way in which we should go ? 
The sun which dawns upon you in the new day, may be 
the last that will ever rise to your e3^es; the journey 
which you then enter upon may be the closing day's 
journey of your life ; and as that sun sinks in the west, 
your light may have gone out forever. How can a 
Christian answer it to his conscience and to God, to begin 
the day and offering no thanksgiving, and imploring "no 
guidance ? He will find it impossible^ I believe, to lead a 
life of very devoted piety, who does not begin each day 
with God j and every man will find the peace, the purity, 



SECRET PRAYER. 275 

the usefulness, and the comforts of each day to be deter- 
mined with almost unerring accuracy by the nature of 
his early communion with God. 

(b) Not less appropriate is secret prayer in the evening. 
Our preservation through the day demands thanks. The 
possibility that we have sinned, even where we have aim- 
ed to do our duty, (compare Job i. 5 ;) the consciousness 
of our infirmity and error, makes it proper that we should 
seek pardoning mercy. About again to be locked in the 
embrace of sleep, "the kinsman of death ;" to close our 
eyes with no assurance that they will be opened again 
till they are opened on the burning throne of God, what 
can be more appropriate than to commend ourselves 
to the fatherly care of Him " who never slumbers nor 
sleeps?" And how will that Christian answer it to con- 
science and to God who sleeps and wakes ; who rises 
and retires to rest ; who walks in the light of God's sun, 
and who is guarded by him in the shadows of his night, 
without any recognition of his hand ? 

(c) Equally proper is it to pray in time of perplexity 
and embarrassment. We all have secret troubles. Our 
way is hedged up. Our intellect is clouded, and our views 
of truth and duty are obscure. Deepening darkness settles 
on our path, and we know not what to do. Many such 
times will occur in each man's life ; and they are appointed, 
among other reasons, to see whether we will then look to 
God. In the most dark and distressing season of the 
American revolution, the commander-in-chief of our 
armies was observed to retire each day to a grove in the 
vicinity of the camp. It was at the Valley Forge. A 
series of disasters had disheartened the army, and the 
sky was overcast with a deep cloud, and distress and 
anxiety pervaded the nation. The army was in want of 
the comforts and almost of the indispensable necessaries 
of life, and disaffection was spreading in the camp. 
Curiosity prompted an individual to follow the comman- 
der-in-chief, and to observe him. The father of his coun- 
try was seen on his knees, supplicating the God of hosts 
in secret prayer. With an anxious and a burdened mind ; 
a mind conscious of its need of heavenly support and 
devotion, he went and rolled these mighty burdens upon 



276 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

the arm of Jehovah. Who can tell how much the liberty 
of this nation is owing to the answer to the secret prayer; 
of Washington at the Valley Forge ? Or rather, who can 
doubt that that spot where he plead with God was { 
place as closely connected with American freedom as th< 
Hall of Independence ? So where difficulties cluster arounc 
us, and we are perplexed and embarrassed, shall we be 
ashamed to go and pour out our hearts before God ? An 
ancient monarch, a distinguished warrior, and a mosi 
beautiful poet, as well as an eminently holy man, once 
used this language. " I sought the Lord, and he hearc 
me, and delivered me from all my fears. The angel of 
the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him 
and delivereth them. The righteous cry, and the Lore 
heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.' 
Ps. xxxiv. 4. 7. 17. When such men have felt it a privi- 
lege to pray, shall we regard it as humiliating for us? 

(d.) We should pray when we are beset with strong 
temptations. Who has not had such temptations, wher: 
sin seemed to have armed itself with all its power, anc 
when it made an onset on his piety which he felt unabk 
to resist ? Then we should pray. It was at such 
period that the Saviour prayed in the garden of Geth 
semane ; and he who is thus beset by the tempter should 
go and plead with God. 

(e.) We should pray when the Holy Spirit prompts us 
to pray. I mean this. There are times in the life of a 
pious man when he desires communion with God. He 
feels just like praying. His mind and heart can be satis- 
fied with nothing else. Prayer to him then is just as con 
genial as conversation with a beloved friend when his 
heart glows with love ; as the society of father, mother, 
sister, wife or child is when the heart is full of attach- 
ment ; as strains of sweet music are to the ear best at- 
tuned, and to the soul most filled with the love of har- 
mony ; as an exquisite poem is to a heart most enamoured 
with the Muses; as the most copious draughts from the 
fountains of Helicon are to the lover of classic scenes; 
nay, as the most delicious banquet to the hungry. It is 
then the element of being; the breath; the Vital air. 
Such times there are in the life of every Christian ; and 
such times should not be suffered to pass by unimproved 



SECRET PRAYER. 277 

They are the spring-times of our piety ; favoring gales 
from heaven designed to waft us onward to a world of 
glory. He is the most eminent Christian who is most 
favored with such strong desires urging him to prayer. 
The heart then is full. The sun of glory shines with 
unusual splendor. No cloud intervenes. The Christian 
rises from the earth, and pants for glory. Nothing then 
will satisfy the mind but communion with God ; and then 
we should pray. Christian, have you never felt such 
times, or is all this to you unintelligible language ? Does 
it seem to savor of enthusiasm or mysticism ? Has 
your mind never been pensive : have you never seen 
a deepening gloom coming over the world ; have you 
never felt a growing distaste for the things of this life and 
the usual objects of pursuit : have 3^ou never felt your 
mind unusually pressed down with the condition of your 
unconverted relatives, your children, your partners in life, 
with the state of the church, and with the danger of 
perishing sinners ? These were times when the Spirit of 
God prompted you to pray. Such feelings pervading a 
church constitute in fact the beginning of a revival of 
religion. Such feelings resisted are the resistance of the 
Holy Ghost ; and such resistance, when it arises from the 
love of vanity, of gain, and of fashion causes that Spirit 
to depart, and leaves the church to the chilly shades of 
spiritual night. 

III. I proposed in the third place to show what are the 
rewards and advantages of secret prayer. " And thy 
Father who seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." I 
will just suggest a thought or two, and then close. 

I might observe that the habit of secret prayer fur- 
nishes to ourselves the best test of piety. There is the 
least temptation to its performance from improper motives 
of all the duties of religion. A man may preach merely 
to be seen of men ; for the same reason he may give 
largely to objects of benevolence ; and for the same 
reason he may be abundant, and loud, and long in public 
prayer. Such men were the Pharisees. But no such 
motive can reign in the closet, ^-ud though, with hearts 
such as ours are, no one can clout. v at there may be im- 
proper motives even there, yet no \\>uere else is there so 
24 



27S PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

little danger of being influenced by improper motives as 
in that duty. 

But what is meant by the "open reward" referred to 
by the Saviour ? Not wealth ; not honor ; not a gorgeouj 
retinue of servants; not a splendid equipage ; not crowns 
and sceptres. These are not the rewards of piety. Per- 
haps he refers to such things as the following. That 
humble piety which you see in some very obscure Chris- 
tian with half your advantages, with little of your learn- 
ing, and with none of your wealth. You know not how to 
account for it that he enjoys and manifests so much more 
religion than you are able to do. It is the " open reward" 
of much secret prayer. — That power which you see others 
have to gain a victory over the world ; to resist its bad 
influences, and to subdue their own passions. You won 
der how they do it, and wonder why such a victory is not 
yours. It is the " open reward" of much secret prayer. — 
That calm and much subdued temper which you see in 
others ; that superiority to passion and raging lusts ; that 
equability of mind when provoked and injured. You 
wonder how other minds can be so calm while you are 
ruffled, and irritable, and excited, and revengeful. Their 
calmness and composure is the "open reward" of secret 
prayer. — That patience which others evince in trial ; that 
meek and quiet resignation ; that readiness to bear many 
sufferings and to bear them long, and that holy triumph 
on the bed of death which you often see, is the " open 
reward" of secret prayer. Your mind is disturbed. You 
dread to die. You have no resignation when you lose your 
friends, and when you lie on a bed of pain. The reason 
is plain. You have not prayed in secret as you should 
have done, and there is to you no " open reward" of 
secret prayer. In one word, that holy, humble, calm, 
submissive life ; that life of cheerful piety, of self-denial, 
and of practical benevolence ; and that resigned and peace- 
ful death which you often see in others, is the " open 
reward" of secret prayer. But further still. In the great 
day, when light shall blaze over countless millions assem- 
bled before God revealing all things, then the bright crown 
of glory which God the Father shall place on the head 
of the humble Christian, shall be the " open reward" of 
secret prayer. 



SECRET PRAYER. 279 



REMARKS. 

1. It remains only to ask of you who bear the name 
of Christ, whether yon are in all honesty and good con- 
science obeying the command of Jesus Christ ? Here, 
every individual must act and answer for himself. No 
one can know your habits on this subject but yourselves 
and God. Yourselves and God too are those most inter- 
ested in knowing ; and I may add your habits on this 
subject are known both to yourselves and to God. You 
know whether in all good conscience you are in the habit 
of entering into your closet and praying to your Father 
who is in secret, and God knows whether this is habit- 
ually done. should his hand slowly pencil on these 
walls in letters of living light the names of those who He 
knows do not pray, how many names of professing Chris- 
tians would stand thus revealed ? My hearer, I hold it to 
be an indisputable truth that the man who does not in all 
fidelity pray in secret cannot be a Christian ; and further, 
that the best evidence of your personal piety is not your 
attendance on the sanctuary — which in itself is no evi- 
dence ; nor in celebrating the Lord's supper — which in 
itself is no evidence ; nor in much alms-giving — which in 
itself is no evidence ; but in that conscious love to God 
and to Jesus Christ which prompts you to pray to him 
who sees in secret. I may ask you then, whether you 
pray in secret ? If you do, I may ask farther, what is 
the character of your prayers there ? Are they infrequent, 
short, rapid, hurried, without heart, or feeling, or care ; 
are they set and formal, hollow and insincere ; — or are they 
the breathings of a heart that loves to pray, and that can- 
not but call upon God ? 

2. Finally, I would address one word to another inte- 
resting class of my audience. I allude to those who were 
early taught to pray, but who have now no "closet;" 
no secret place where they retire ; no daily communion 
with God. Light returns to you in the morning, but not 
o you returns the secret wish to go and thank your Great 
Preserver. Night throws his shades around you and you 
ie down — perhaps to sleep the sleep of death, and you 



280 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

commend not yourself to his fatherly care. Troubles 
come, and temptations arise, and disappointments thicken, 
but none of all your troubles has power to induce yon 
to go to God and cast your care upon him. You see 
days, and weeks, and years roll away, and the judgment 
lessens its distance each moment, and death, ft king of 
terrors," draws nearer, and still you do not pray. Once 
you prayed. Your mother taught you to kneel before 
your Maker, and put your little hands together, and say, 
" Our Father who art in heaven." But that mother may 
now slumber beneath the clods of the valley, or im- 
mersed in the business or the gaiety of the world you have 
forgotten her counsel, and now live without prayer. A 
traveller to eternity ; a dependent being ; a sinner ; with 
a soul that can never die, you are going to the grave, and 
you seek not your Maker's blessing; you ask not his 
guidance and his salvation. Let me entreat of you one 
thing. It is to resume that forgotten-habit of secret 
prayer. Go once to-day, if it be the last time, and ask 
of God to save you. Go and seek the face of your long- 
forgotten God. Let it be, if you will it should be so, the 
last time. Enter the closet with this feeling — ' This is the 
last time that I shall call upon God ? ? Yet let it once be 
done. Stand not, I conjure you, at the bar of God with 
this feeling, ( I asked not to be saved. I sought not to 
enter into heaven/ Turn not away from the gates of 
glory at the close of the scenes of the judgment, with 
this feeling, * I go to a world of wo from which I did not 
ask to be delivered ; to everlasting despair, to be saved 
from which I raised not a feeble cry. ? Sinner, pray ! 
Deathless being, pray J Aged man, soon to go to the 
judgment, pray I Young man, amidst the snares of the 
world and the temptations of this life, I entreat you to 
pray ! Child of pious parents, baptized in the Saviours 
name, pray ! pray, ye travellers to eternity ; pray that 
you may enter into the kingdom of God ! 



SERMON IX. 

THE SABBATH 
Ex. xx. 8. Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy. 

The Sabbath may be contemplated from many differ- 
ent points of view. It may be considered in its influence 
on the powers of our nature exhausted through six days 
of anxiety and toil ; in the necessity which is laid in our 
very constitution by- the Author of our being for periodical 
seasons of relaxation and repose ; in its influence on the 
intellect of an individual or a people by its directing the 
attention to topics adapted to elevate and expand the soul ; 
in the aid which it furnishes to the magistrate in promot- 
ing the observance of law ; in its influence on neighbour- 
hoods and families in promoting social feeling, and refined 
intercourse ; in its bearing on the civil liberties of a nation, 
and in its indispensable necessity m preparing for the life 
to come. Each one of these points would furnish an 
ample topic of discourse ; and by the arguments which 
might be accumulated on these topics we could satisfy 
any reasonable mind of the value and importance of the 
Sabbath. But I wish at this time to present a different 
train of thought from what would be furnished by either 
of these points. I design particularly to address Christians ; 
and to urge upon their minds some considerations why 
they should feel a special interest in the proper observance 
of this day. 

I. The first consideration which I shall suggest is, that 
if the Sabbath is abolished, the Christian religion will be 
abolished with it. The question whether this day is to 
be observed or desecrated, is just a question of life and 
death in regard to Christianity. This is so obvious that 
it scarcely needs any attempt to prove it. Without a 
Sabbath our public institutions designed to promote and 
perpetuate religion would cease ; our Sabbath -schools 
would be disbanded ; family instruction would soon come 
to an end ; the sanctuaries would be closed ; the ministry 
24* 281 



282 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

dismissed and discarded ; the current of worldly affairs 
would be unbroken ; plans of evil would meet with no 
interruption ; and all the means of grace would be at once 
arrested. Christians might meet at irregular and distant 
intervals for prayer and praise ; but the number of such 
meetings would rapidly decrease, and soon the last vestige 
of Christianity would disappear. The books containing 
its defence would be forgotten, and the Bible soon cease 
to be read with interest or gratitude. If the Sabbath be 
abolished, what hold can Christianity have on man ? 
What way of access can it have to the heart and con- 
science ? How shall the arguments for its truth be 
brought before the mind ? How shall its moral precepts 
be urged ? How shall its high hopes, and its solemn ap- 
peals and sanctions be presented ? And how shall its 
stern rebukes be made to fall on the ears of the guilty ? 
If you close your churches, and your Sabbath-schools, 
there is no other effectual way. Nothing can be plainer 
than this ; and nothing can be more manifest than that 
he who violates, or disregards the Sabbath, is taking the 
most effectual means for obliterating the Christian reli- 
gion from the world. 

The whole history of Christianity shows that where the 
Sabbath is observed religion flourishes ; where it is not, 
religion dies away and becomes extinct. We might appeal 
here to any man's observation, and ask him to recall the 
memory of a place where there is no Sabbath, and the 
scenes which he witnessed there. Was the voice of 
prayer heard there ? Was God feared and honored ? Were 
children and youth trained in the ways of religion, and 
taught to worship and honor their Maker ? Did meek- 
ness, and temperance, and chastity, and justice, and 
honesty abound ? Or was the place distinguished for 
riot and disorder ; for falsehood and profaneness ; for in- 
temperance and licentiousness ; for indolence and brutal 
scenes of violence and strife? Was there ever a place 
in which the Sabbath began to be observed in which 
there did not revive the love of truth and order ; indus- 
try and intelligence ; urbanity and benevolence ; tem- 
perance, purity, and the love of God — like streams break- 
ing out in the desert, and like the lily and the rose spring- 
ing up in waste and sandy places ! ' Has there ever been 



THE SABBATH. 283 

an instance where this day has been observed, that it has 
not been followed by the blessings which industry, and 
temperance, and intelligence, and piety carry in their 
train ? This appeal is made with the utmost confidence ; 
and the friends and foes of Christianity are invited to 
examine the point at their leisure. 

Well do the enemies of Christianity in these times, 
know what they are about. In former generations, at- 
tempts were made to destroy the gospel by the sword and 
the faggot ; — but all such attempts were foiled. Imperial 
power attempted to crush it ; but imperial power found 
its arm too weak to contend with God. Argument and 
sophistry were then employed ; ridicule lent its aid, and 
contempt pointed the finger of scorn ; but all was in vain. 
Christianity survived all these, and rose with augmented 
power and more resplendent beauty — and would do so to 
the end of time. But there is one weapon which the 
enemy has employed to destroy Christianity, and to drive 
it from the world, which has never been employed but 
with signal success. It is the attempt to corrupt the 
Christian Sabbath ; . to make it a day of festivity ; to cause 
Christians to feel that its sacred and rigid obligation has 
ceased; to induce them on that day to mingle in the 
scenes of pleasure, or the exciting plans of ambition ; — 
to make them feel that they may pursue their journeys 
by land and water — by the steam boat and the car re- 
gardless of the command of God; and this has done, and 
will continue to do, what no argument, no sophistry, no 
imperial power has been able to accomplish. The " Book 
of Sports'' did more to destroy Christianity than all the 
ten persecutions of the Roman emperors ; and the views 
of the second Charles and his court about the Lord's day, 
tended more to drive religion from the British nation than 
all the fires that were enkindled by Mary. Paris has no 
Sabbath, and that fact has done more to banish Chris- 
tianity than all the writing of Voltaire ; and Vienna has 
no Sabbath, and that fact does more to annihilate religion 
there than ever did the scepticism of Frederick. Turn 
the Sabbath into a day of sports and pastime ; of military 
reviews, and of pantomimes and theatrical exhibitions, 
and not an infidel any where would care a farthing about 



2S4 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

the tomes of Volney or Voltaire ; about the scepticism of 
Hume, the sneers of Gibbon, or the scurrility of Paine. 

The great enemy of God and liberty, in this western 
world, understands how to meet Christianity here. He 
knows that it will not be possible to kindle the flames of 
persecution. He knows that the friends of Christ cannot 
be turned over by the sentence of the Inquisition to the 
tender mercies of the civil arm. He knows that he cannot 
get up an auto-de-fe, and that the garden of the capi- 
tol cannot be illuminated by the burning bodies of the 
saints. He knows too that there is too much science and 
learning ; that there are too many schools and colleges, 
to attempt to attack it by sophistry and argument. It has 
passed through too many such trials, and has come out of 
them all unscathed. But was there no new form of op- 
position by which religion could be met in the new 
world ; no vital part of Christianity that could be reached : 
no blow that could be struck that would wither its rising 
power, and lay it prostrate in the dust? There was one 
experiment that could be made. Over these broad and 
ample states and territories men might be sent in search 
of gain, regardless of the Sabbath. Our majestic streams 
— winding along for thousands of miles through the 
richest lands on earth— might be ascended regardless of the 
sacredness of the day. Young men might be led away, 
by the hope of wealth, from the peaceful scenes where a 
Sabbath sheds repose on a village, or the Sabbath bell 
summons an entire population to worship God. The 
nation might be roused by the love of gold; and new 
facilities for intercourse, and the love of travel might un- 
settle almost the whole population, and transform them 
into wandering tribes or families, and lead them to trample 
down the barriers of virtue, and the institutions of religion. 
The experiment was one of vast moment, and as fearful 
in its results as it was vast. It involves the whole interest 
of this nation. Its result will settle the fate of Christianity 
in this land, and perhaps throughout the world. If we 
can have a Sabbath, sacred in its stillness and its associa- 
tions ; maintained by a healthful popular sentiment rathei 
than by human laws ; revered as a day of holy rest, and 
as a type of keaven ; a day when men shall* delight to 



THE SABBATH. 285 

come together to worship God, and not a day of pastime, 
Christianity is safe in this land, and our country is safe. 
If not, the Sabbath, and religion, and liberty will die to- 
gether. 

In the experiment going on in this land not few hands 
are engaged but many. It is not the mere work of 
thoughtlessness and recklessness, but it has all the marks 
of purpose and of plan. It has evidence of being under 
the control of that master mind that is the author of all 
evil, and the father of all the embarrassments that Chris- 
tianity has ever met with. The attempt to blot out the 
Sabbath from this land evinces more knowledge of human 
nature, and more tact and skill than the persecutions of 
the Roman emperors or of Mary. For who is engaged in 
the work of blotting out the Sabbath ? Every atheist is 
engaged in it, and here places his main hope of success. 
Every sceptic is engaged in it, and anticipates more from 
this than from all his arguments. Every profane man, 
and every intemperate man, and every licentious man is 
engaged in it, for in this way they hope that all restraint 
will be removed from unlimited indulgence in vice. And 
a multitude of men who are not professedly atheists or 
infidels, but whose heart is with them in their leading 
purposes, unite with them in opposing the sacredness of 
this day. In one word, the mass of busy, active, unprin- 
cipled, infidel mind in this nation, in high life and low, 
in office and out of office, in city and country, that for 
various reasons would desire Christianity to be extin- 
guished, has made war on the Sabbath, and is prosecut- 
ing that war by all the means within its reach, and, it is 
to be feared, with augmenting prospects of success. 

The question now is just this. Is Christianity worth 
preserving, or can we afford to see it driven from the 
land? Are we so secure without it in our individual and 
national interests, that we can part with it without re- 
gret ; or is it with an effort to save it ? Has Christianity 
such a connection with pure and wholesome morals as 
to make it desirable to retain it in the commonwealth, or 
will our morals be equally pure without it ? Can this 
great nation be governed and defended without a God, 
or will it be best to yield obedience to his laws, and re- 
tain the religion of " peace and good will toward men** 



286 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

among us, and transmit it to posterity ? These are ques- 
tions connected with the Sabbath : and the course which 
is pursued in regard to this day will settle them all. 

II. The second reason why this subject demands now 
the special attention of Christians is, that if the Sabbath 
is not regarded as holy time, it will be regarded as pas- 
time ; if not a day sacred to devotion, it will be a day of 
recreation, of pleasure, of licentiousness. The Sabbath 
is not essentially an arbitrary appointment, for it is re- 
quired in the very nature of the animal economy that 
there should be periodical seasons of relaxation. Nature 
cannot always be taxed to incessant effort. We must 
have periodical rest in all the functions of our nature. 
Bonaparte once passed three entire days and nights with- 
out sleep, but he could no longer contend against a great 
law of nature, and sank to sleep on his horse. There is 
not a muscle in the animal economy that does not de- 
mand rest after effort, and that will not have it. If it 
is not granted voluntarily, it will be taken. If the powers 
of nature are overworked, they will take relaxation by 
disease, and perhaps when too late to repair their ex- 
hausted energies. This great law of nature must and 
will be obeyed. If the frame is worn out and exhausted 
without this relaxation, the consequence must be sickness, 
or rest in the grave. The late Mr. Wilberforce declared 
that at one period of his parliamentary career, his duties 
were so multiplied and exhausting that his health must 
have been utterly prostrated, but for the seasonable relief 
which the Sabbath afforded him. There is not an animal 
that can endure unceasing effort without repose ; and 
God, in requiring that the "cattle" should be allowed to 
rest on the Sabbath, has spoken according to the laws 
which he originally impressed on the brute creation. If 
the question were simply one of interest, and a man 
wished to make the most of the noble horse or the patient 
ox, he would allow him to rest according to the com- 
mandment. For every such day of periodical repose he 
will receive more than an equivalent in augmented 
strength and length of days. If rest is not allowed them, 
their powers are exhausted, and they expire. The uni- 
verse is fitted up, as far as we know, for the purposes of 
alternate action and rest, from the first beating of the 



THE SABBATH. 287 

heart in infancy to the mightiest effort of the mature 
man ; from the insect that flutters and dies, to the lion of 
the forest, the mighty elephant, and the monarch on the 
throne. 

In demanding, therefore, that the animal and mental 
economy should be allowed a day of periodical repose, 
God has acted in accordance with a great law of nature. 
There is nothing arbitrary, except in designating the par- 
ticular day which shall be observed; and all that is arbi- 
trary in this is a consultation of convenience, that we may 
not be disturbed by the toil and action of another while 
we seek repose — just as he has so ordained the animal 
functions that all are disposed to sleep at night. 

Further, all nations have had, and will have periodical 
seasons of relaxation from the severity of toil. The Jews 
had their weekly Sabbath ; the Greeks and Romans had 
numerous festivals in honor of their gods, and many a 
day in the year for riot and disorder ; the followers of 
Mohammed observe a weekly Sabbath ; the heathen na- 
tions observe numerous festivals frequently occurring ; 
and even the actors in the French revolution were con- 
strained to bow to this great law of nature, and appoint- 
ed one day in ten as a day of relaxation from toil. Hesiod 
and Homer said, " The seventh day is holy." Josephus 
says, "There is no city, however barbarous, where the 
custom of observing the seventh day which prevails 
among the Jews is not observed." Eusebius says, "Al- 
most all the philosophers and the poets acknowledge the 
seventh day as holy."* Whatever may be the time se- 
lected, whether a day in honor of an idol, or in honor of 
the Saviour ; whether one day in seven, or one day in 
ten ; whether it be in honor of a saint, a hero, or the 
birth-day of a prince or of a nation, such days will be 
observed. In our country it is settled that this day of 
periodical rest is to be the first day of the week. This 
is settled by custom ; by the statutes of the land ; by the 
practices in courts and legislatures ; by universal under- 
standing among farmers and mechanics; by the esta- 
blished laws and habits in our colleges and schools, 
between the master and the slave, and among neighbors 

* Grotius de Veritate. Lib. 1. sec. xvi. 



288 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

every where. No one expects to find his neighbor at 
work on the Sabbath ; and should even a master attempt 
to enforce labor on the Sabbath, he would go against 
the moral sense of the nation, and against the settled 
customs of the land. This custom is settled, moreover, 
by the belief of the religious portion of the nation that 
this is holy time, and by the lingerings of conscience 
among those who have been trained in the ways of 
religion. It is to be the settled custom" in this nation 
that on this day toil is to cease, and men are to give 
themselves to other purposes than the ordinary employ- 
ments of life. As a general habit all over the land, 
our stores and counting-houses will be shut ; our schools 
will be disbanded ; our courts and public offices will be 
closed ; our banks and insurance offices will cease to do 
business ; our mechanics will lay aside the saw and the 
hammer ; the student will close his books, the farmer will 
leave his plow in the furrow, the woodman will lay down 
his axe, the apprentice will be at liberty, and the slave 
will feel that he has a little time that in some proper sense 
is his own. The day is to be a day of relaxation and 
rest. It is either to be devoted to religion, or to such pas- 
times as the general public sentiment shall demand. 

Since this is to be so, the question is, what is to be the 
effect if the day ceases to be a day of religious observ- 
ance ? What will be the effect of releasing a population 
of several millions one-seventh part of the time from any 
settled business of life ? What will be the result if they 
are brought under no religious instruction? What will 
be the effect on morals ; on religion ; on sober habits of 
industry ; on virtue, happiness, and patriotism ? Can we 
safely close our places of business, and annihilate all the 
restraints that bind us during the six days ; can Ave turn 
out a vast population of the young with nothing to do, and 
abide the consequences of such a universal exposure to 
vice ? Can we safely dismiss our young men, all over the 
land, with sentiments unsettled, and with habits of virtue 
unformed, and throw them one day in seven upon the 
world with nothing to do ? Can we safely release our sons, 
and our apprentices, and our clerks from our employ, and 
send them forth under the influence of unchecked youth- 
ful passion ? Can we safely open, as we do, fountains of 



THE SABBATH. 289 

poison at every corner of the street, and in every village 
and hamlet, and invite the young to drink there with im- 
punity t Can there be a season of universal relaxation, 
occurring fifty-two times in a year, when all restraints are 
withdrawn, and when the power of temptation shall be 
plied with all that art and skill can do to lead the hosts in 
the way to ruin, and to drag them down to hell ? 

One would suppose that the experiment which has 
already been made in cities of our land, would be suffi- 
cient to remove all doubt from every reasonable mind on 
this subject. We are making the experiment on a large 
scale every Sabbath. Extensively in our large cities and 
their vicinities, this is a day of dissipation, of riot, of 
licentiousness, and of blasphemy. It is probable that more 
is done to unsettle the habits of virtue, and soberness, and 
industry ; to propagate infidelity, and to lay the founda- 
tion for future repentance or ignominy ; to retard the pro- 
gress of the temperance reformation, and to prepare 
candidates for the penitentiary and the gallows on this 
day than on all the other days of the week. So it always 
is where institutions designed for good are abused. They 
become as powerful in evil as they were intended to be 
for good. The Sabbath is an institution of tremendous 
power for good or evil. If for good, as it is designed, 
and as it easily may be, it is laid at the foundation of 
all our peace, our intelligence, our morals, our religion. 
If for evil, it strikes at all these ; nor is there any pos- 
sible power in laws or in education that can, during 
the six days, counteract the evils of a Sabbath given to 
licentiousness and sin. And the question before the 
nation is not, whether this is to be a day of labor and 
sober industry, for that is settled, but whether it is to 
be a day of religion or licentiousness ; a day of virtue or 
of sin ; a day for God, or a day for the devil. It is, whe- 
ther the nation can afford to have one day in seven a 
day of riot and disorder — a saturnalia, occurring more 
than fifty times in the year, when Rome, in the most 
palmy days of her virtue, could scarcely survive the 
effects of one. No graver question can come before the 
nation than this. Let any one ask himself what would be 
the effect of having a day kept as the anniversary of our 
independence has usually been, occurring more than fifty 
25 



290 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

times in the year — a day of riot and drunkenness — and 
he can be at no loss what answer is to be given to such 
a question. 

Further, the Sabbath is favorable to the spread of pure 
morality, and the most pure and elevated virtues are 
found in those communities that observe it as a day of 
holy rest. This assertion is made with the utmost confi- 
dence, and you are invited to test the truth of it as often 
as you please. Go through the country and examine the 
cities, the towns, and the villages ; mingle with the inha- 
bitants of every class, and converse with them freely; 
learn their opinions and their habits ; examine their pri- 
sons and their almshouses, and then tell me where you 
find most industry, most sober habits, most contentment, 
most sobriety, most intelligence, most freedom from low 
and debasing vices. Tell me in what place you would 
prefer to place a son, or where you would wish a daugh- 
ter to be educated ? Is there here a parent who would 
hesitate for one moment in regard to this ? The virtues 
which go to adorn domestic intercourse, and to cement 
society ; the mild and gentle charities that are connected 
with the fireside, with the sick-room, and the bed of 
death, flourish pre-eminently among those who love the 
sound of the Sabbath-bell. Can you point me to one 
idle and dissolute family ; to one disturber of the peace ; 
to one vicious neighborhood ; to one community in which 
licentiousness reigns, where the Sabbath is habitually and 
generally observed ? And can you point me to one com- 
munity where it is not observed, which does not become 
riotous and vicious, and where intemperance, and gam- 
bling, and licentiousness, do not sooner or later abound ? 
Sir Matthew Hale says, " That of all the persons con- 
victed of capital crimes while he was on the bench, there 
were few who were not ready to confess that they had 
begun their career of wickedness by a neglect of the duties 
of the Sabbath." 

Now if the Sabbath be abolished, it will become a day 
of immorality. In particular, I wish to say, that this re- 
mark specially concerns young men. I do believe that 
if I could collect around me all the young men of this 
land, and if I could get their ear for a little time, I could 
convince the mass of them that the only security for their 



THE SABBATH. 291 

correct moral character, and their future usefulness, suc- 
cess, and happiness, will be connected with the proper 
observance of this day. I could show them, to their perfect 
satisfaction, that the temptations which are spread out to 
beguile the unwary, are designed by cunning, unprincipled, 
and avaricious men for them. I could satisfy them that 
when they go forth from their father's dwellings, and from 
the sanctuary this day, under the influence of strong de- 
sires for pleasure and amusement, they are exposed to 
temptations where no young man is safe, and that beyond 
the eye of a father and a mother they may be hurried 
on to excesses which they would have been shocked to 
have anticipated. For be it remembered that no young 
man leaves his father's dwelling, and devotes this day 
to amusement and revelry, without flying in the face 
of an explicit command of the Most High. He tramples 
beneath his feet one of the solemn mandates that were 
given amidst flames and thunders on Mount Sinai — and 
when one command of God is basely and contemptuously 
trod beneath his feet the other nine will soon cease to be 
regarded. Be it remembered too, that the laws which 
God has ordained tend only to promote human virtue and 
happiness. Go to the penitentiary, and walk along from 
cell to cell, and enquire of the inmates when their career 
of guilt commenced. Go and converse in his sober mo- 
ments with the drunkard, and ask him when he first trod 
that downward way, and the answer would be, in a ma- 
jority of cases, on the Sabbath-day. I venture here a 
remark — though with not entire certainty of its correct- 
ness. It is, that in this country more young men com- 
mence the habits of drinking on the Sabbath than on any 
other day in the week. They are at leisure. They band 
together. They fill up the long lines of packed vehicles 
that on that day lead out of our cities in every direction. 
At the end of each one of those brief journies, and at as 
many places on the way as they can be induced to pause 
at, a kind and indulgent public has placed a dram shop, 
under the name of a tavern, and the Sabbath is their 
harvest-time, and were it not for the Sabbath they could 
not be sustained a month. There, many a young man 
in thoughtlessness commences a career which terminates 
in breaking a mother's heart, and in the early wreck of 



292 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

all the hopes of a family, and in the extinction of their 
peace as they weep over a drunkard's grave. 

III. A third reason why this subject demands the at- 
tention of Christians in a special manner now is, that 
there is a state of things in this land that is tending to 
obliterate the Sabbath altogether. 

The events to which I refer are too well known to 
make it necessary to dwell particularly on them. In every 
direction the mail is carried, and the example of the 
violation of the day is thus set by national authority. 
Every post-omce is required by law to be kept open, and 
a public invitation is thus given to obtain the political and 
commercial intelligence, and to divert the mind from the 
sacred duties of the day by the reference to the cares of 
this life. Some years since the voice of respectful en- 
treaty and petition was addressed to the National Legis- 
lature by some thousands of the best citizens in the land : 
— and the sacred right of petition was met with contempt 
and sarcasm. In every part of our land, also, the facili- 
ties for intercommunication have been augmented to an 
extent that excites the surprise of the world. By canals 
and rail-roads distant portions of our country have been 
brought together, and the land trembles as the car of 
commerce rolls on, and the long lines of majestic improve- 
ments are crowded with the results of our toil, and with 
a travelling community. Against these national improve- 
ments, assuredly, the language of complaint is not to be 
urged. In many respects they are the glory of our land ; 
and they should be sources of gratitude to God who has 
thus signally blessed our country. But can any one be 
ignorant that each canal and rail-road furnishes increased 
facility for Sabbath-violation, and that they are fast tend- 
ing to blot it from the land ? Where in these public con- 
veyances is the Sabbath regarded ? Where is the rail- 
road car that is arrested by the return of this day ? Is it 
not known that these vehicles, and particularly in the 
neighborhood of our cities, are crowded with a denser 
throng on this day than on any other day in the seven ? 
Had it been the purpose of the people" of this land to 
abolish the Sabbath altogether, and to furnish the most 
rapid and extended means of its entire obliteration, it 



THE SABBATH. 293 

would have Deen impossible to have devised a more cer- 
tain and effect ual way than that which is now employed. 
In the mean time there is an augmenting desire for 
motion in this land. The population is becoming mi- 
gratory ; and few pause — whether Christians or not — to 
rest on the Sabbath. The merchant hastens on his way 
to the commercial emporium — as if the saving of a day 
for worldly business were of more value than the observ- 
ance of the laws of God ; the legislator pursues his jour- 
ney to the capitol — as if anxious to exhibit a specimen 
of breaking the laws of God while he goes to make laws 
for man ; — the party of pleasure urge on their way to a 
watering-place — determined to annihilate time and space, 
as if the affairs of the world depended on their being there 
an hour earlier ; our sons in the distant west are travel- 
ling at the same time beyond the sound of the Sabbath- 
bell, and the memory of the sanctuary to which it once 
called them — as if it were a virtue to forget all the sacred 
scenes where the calm light of a Sabbath-morning visited 
their souls ; and the idle, the dissipated, the profane, the 
atheist, the Christian, the clergyman, in these public vehi- 
cles, pursue the business of gain, or pleasure, or conve- 
nience, or ambition — as if there were special merit in 
forgetting all the usual distinctions of society, and each 
and all were showing how they can most effectually dis- 
regard the obligations of this day. For one man in the 
community at large who will conscientiously stop on his 
journey to keep holy the Sabbath-day, there are probably 
ten who will be at special pains to violate it, either by 
commencing a journey on that day, or by making it the 
occasion of an excursion of pleasure. In the high places 
of the land too there is an increasing laxness of principle 
on this subject. During the times that tried men's souls 
in the war of Independence, our fathers would have been 
alarmed had the ordinary business of legislation been 
pursued on the Sabbath, and the voice of indignant re- 
monstrance would have been heard throughout the land. 
Yet nothing has been more common of late years than 
for the National Legislature, after wasting months in 
needless and profitless debate, to close their labors on the 
Sabbath — and amidst such scenes of disorder as to be 
a disgrace to themselves and the nation on any day.-^ 
25* 



294 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

It is not easy for men in any situation to cast off respect 
for the laws of God and at the same time maintain a 
character for sober virtue and order ; and in legislatures 
as elsewhere a disregard for God's laws is but the begin- 
ning of evil. Yet the nation has not been alarmed. A 
few feeble voices from the press have been heard, but 
they have died away ; and the nation seems resolved to 
acquiesce in the insult put upon the religious sentiments 
of the great body of the people of the land, and in the 
disregard of the nation in its highest functions for the 
Sabbath of the Lord. 

I will close by repeating a remark already made. It is 
this. The warfare which Christianity is to wage in this 
land is here. The opposition to religion is here. The 
Sabbath has more enemies in this land than the Lord's 
Supper ; than baptism ; than the Bible ; than all the other 
institutions of religion put together. At the same time 
it is more difficult to meet the enemy here than any 
where else — for we come in conflict not with argument 
— but with interest, and pleasure, and the love of indul- 
gence, and of gain. The conflict is to rage here. The 
wish of the atheist, the infidel, the man of vice, is to 
blot out the Sabbath. The attempt will not be made 
here to destroy Christianity by persecution, for that has 
been often tried, and has always failed. It is to see 
whether the Sabbath can be obliterated from the memory 
of man ; and if it can be done it will be done. If this 
day, with its sacred institutions, can be blotted out, the 
victory will be won. Infidelity will achieve what the 
faggot and the stake, the force of argument and the 
caustic severity of sarcasm and ridicule have never been 
able to accomplish. And it is just now a question for 
the good people of this land to determine for them- 
selves whether they shall abandon the day, or make 
an effort to save it ; whether the virtuous and the pious 
shall yield the victory without a struggle, or whether they 
shall combine their efforts, and address the reason and con- 
science of their fellow-citizens and speak to them of our 
hallowed institutions, and of the rapid corruption of the 
public morals ; whether they shall remind them of what 
the Sabbath has done for us in better times, and attempt 
to bring back the nation to the observance of an institu- 



THE SABBATH. 295 

tion that would diffuse intelligence, and soberness, and 
industry, and salvation all over the land ; or whether dis- 
heartened by the difficulties in the case, and overpowered 
by numbers, they shall give it up in despair. On the po- 
sition which each individual takes on these questions, 
more may depend than on any other single step in his 
life ; on his course in regard to the Sabbath will depend 
much of the peace or the sorrow of the bed of death. 



SERMON XX. 



SECRET FAULTS. 



Psalm xix. 12. Who can understand his errors ? Cleanse thou me 
from secret faults. 

Secret Faults. — Men are usually much less anxious 
to be free from them than they are to be restrained from 
open transgression. Yet, they enter deeply into the cha- 
racter, and will enter into the future judgment. It is 
important, therefore, that we should understand our own 
secret propensities to evil ; and important that we should 
urge, with fervor and sincerity, the petition of the text, 
" Cleanse thou me from secret faults." 

The following points will be considered in illustrating 
this subject : 

I. What are secret faults ; 

II. By what means they are concealed ; and, 

III. Why should we desire and pray to be delivered 
from them ? 

I. What are secret faults? They stand opposed to 
open and "presumptuous transgressions ;" to such as are 
seen and known by the world. They pertain to the mo- 
tives, the feelings, the intentions of the heart. They relate 
particularly to such sins as the following : 

(1.) To the secret bias of the heart to evil. There may 
be what may be called latent guilt ; a propensity of the 
soul to sin which has never been developed, and of which, 
except in the feeblest degree, we may be scarcely con- 
scious ourselves. Many a parent is surprised to see his 
son, in some new situation in life, evince a propensity to 
some form of vice which he had never suspected. The 
reason was, that he was not before placed in a situation 
to develop the peculiar depravity of his heart. Many a 
man discovers a propensity to evil suddenly springing up 
in his own soul, which is equally surprising'to himself and 
to his friends. To his own amazement, he finds himself 
suddenly growing covetous, or ambitious, or proud, and 

296 



SECRET FAULTS. 297 

wonders at the extraordinary power which the apparently 
new-born propensity has over his mind. The reason is, 
that the strong native inclination of his soul has not be- 
fore been in circumstances to develop itself. It has been 
held in check and abeyance, and no opportunity has oc- 
curred where he could act out his nature. No man knows 
what latent propensities to evil there may be in the soul, 
until he has been thrown into a variety of circumstances 
fitted to test his character, and show him what he is. 
The human heart is a great deep. No line has been 
found long enough to sound it ; and as it is in regard to 
the bottom of the ocean, so no one has fully told us what 
lies buried in the depths of the soul of man. 

(2.) Secret faults consist of the unholy thoughts which 
we intend no other person shall know. Some of those 
are usually of so gross a character, that the great body 
of persons at once reject them, and strive to be free from 
them. But others are such as the mind indulges in, with 
little effort to remove them, and with little sense of their 
evil. They go materially into the formation of the cha- 
racter as it is seen by God, and as it is ultimately deve- 
loped before men, but they are often long indulged before 
there is any very decided effort to remove them, or any 
very deep conviction that they are evil. Most uncon- 
verted minds are in the habit of indulging in trains of 
thought which they would by no means be willing that 
the world should know of, and not a few such thoughts 
are suffered to pass through the minds of those who are 
professedly of pure life, which they are anxious to conceal 
from their fellow-men. Few, indeed, are the hearts that 
would bear the revolution of its workings for a single day 
without exciting a blush ; and few are the inhabitants of 
this world, if there are any, who would be willing that 
their secret views, and thoughts, and plans, for any con- 
siderable period of their lives, should be laid open before 
their best friends. 

(3.) Secret faults are those sinful emotions and affec- 
tions which rise up in the best hearts almost involuntarily, 
and against which a mind wishing to be pure struggles. 
They are the operations of a nature deeply depraved. 
They are the streams that flow forth from the corrupt 
fountain, the heart. They are the result of former habits 



298 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

of thinking, and of the former course of life. There is much 
in habit, whether for good or evil, which we cannot 
understand. Essentially we mean by it the facility for 
doing any thing which results from having often done it ; 
and when once a man has acquired the habit of sinning, it 
will follow him and annoy him until contrary habits are 
formed. A man who has been in the habit of profane- 
ness, will long after find the words of blasphemy rising in 
his mind almost involuntarily and irresistibly. He who 
has been an infidel, will find infidel thoughts and associa- 
tions torturing his peace for years after he becomes a true 
Christian. He who has been proud, and irritable, and 
selfish, and stubborn, and self-confident, and fault-finding, 
and censorious before his conversion, will find a constant 
tendency to these sins afterwards, and will detect himself 
in their indulgence almost before he is aware of it. He 
who was covetous or avaricious before his conversion, 
will find the mighty remains of these sins in his heart 
after he becomes a Christian, and will be subjected to 
their secret operation, even when his general course of 
life is that of a man of benevolence. We are beset with 
two classes of evils — there is the evil of our original bias 
to transgress — the powerful tendency with which we 
came into the world ; and there is the evil arising from 
long indulgence in habits of sin. He who commences 
the Christian life in youth, will have the least trouble 
from either of these sources; he who is converted at 
middle or advanced life must expect a furious warfare 
that shall cease only at death. 

(4.) Secret faults include those plans of evil which are 
not prosecuted to their completion. They are formed, 
and there is an intention of executing them, but the op- 
portunity does not occur ; or some unexpected barrier is 
thrown in the way ; or the heart fails ; or death breaks 
up the scheme. * Of all the plans of evil that have been 
formed on earth, but a small proportion have ever been 
executed ; and great as is the aggregate of iniquity, the 
amount would have been much more vast if all the pur- 
poses of wickedness had been accomplished as was de- 
sired by their projectors. Bad as the world is, and much 
occasion as there is to mourn over it, yet but little of the 
evil that has in fact existed has appeared to any but 



SECRET FAULTS. 299 

to the all-seeing eye of God. This is one reason why his 
estimate of the human character in the Bible, seems to be 
so much more severe than that which men form. He 
looks upon the heart ; sees all the unexecuted plans of 
evil ; knows what man would do if he were unrestrained ; 
and forms his view of the human character from what he 
sees in the secret chambers of the soul, and will judge 
men according to that. 

In speaking of secret faults, I might go on to speak of 
the crimes that are perpetrated in darkness; of those 
which escape the eye of the most vigilant police ; of those 
which have been committed and which are forgotten ; and 
of those which are perpetrated under the specious name 
of virtue, and which pass for virtue among men. But the 
enumeration already given will furnish an idea of what 
I mean, and will prepare the way for considering the pro- 
priety of prayer for deliverance from them in another 
part of this discourse. I proceed, therefore, to show, 

II. In the second place, some of the ways in which sin 
is concealed, or in which our faults are hid from detection, 
so that they remain unknown to others. 

(1.) I begin with observing that men design to conceal 
ihem. A power to hide our purposes is essential to the 
existence of society, and grows out of its very organi- 
zation. The body becomes the shield of the soul to guard 
our plans from the observation of other minds, and to 
bury our thoughts from the notice of all but the Omniscient 
Eye. It becomes a right which every man has, to conceal 
those of his plans in his own bosom which he is unwilling 
the world should know. This power we hold for good. 
It is essential often to the accomplishment of our virtuous 
purposes, which would be defeated if we could not hide 
them from others ; it is vital to the performance of con- 
templated deeds of benevolence — for if the wicked could 
ee them they would often defeat them. It constitutes 
individuality in the midst of society, that we are known 
only so far as we wish to be known; and that we may 
walk among thousands and be the depositories of our own 
secrets, and keep our individual aims hidden from the 
world. 

The power of concealment is, therefore, originally an 



300 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

arrangement for eood. But it may be abused for pur- 
Poses of evil; and my observation now is, that a large 
pa t of the plans of wickedness in this world are concealed 
of des Jn. There is a course of discipline in vice to accom- 
p ish th s and it is often successful. God has placed in 
? human frame by nature certain indications of secret 
ouilt : and he meant that where that guilt existed it should 
oeU itself for the well-being of society He designed 
not only that the conscience should check the offendei, 
but he implanted in the frame itself, certain mdications 
of guilt which he intended also to be a safeguard of. irtue 
The blushine cheek— the mysterious rush of blood there 
which no man can account for except on the supposition 
that there is a moral government and a God— he intended 
should be an index of guilt-and in a novice in iniquity 
it is so The eye— tremulous, and abashed, and turning 
away— he intended should betray the secret wickedness 
of the soul— a fact also which no one can account tor 
except on the supposition that there is a God. _ The trem- 
bling frame, the hand palsied by the consciousness of 
crime when raised to commit a deed of wickedness he 
designed should reveal the guilty purpose of the soul. fcee 
a brow calm, and an eye serene, and a frame composed, 
and a hand steady, and a walk erect and firm, and you 
are struck with the indications of conscious innocence. 
The reverse indicates guilt. Now, one great^ art in this 
world is to obliterate the natural marks of guilt from the 
human frame, and to counterfeit the indications of inno- 
cence. The object is so to train the eye that it will not 
reveal the secret conviction of crime ; so to discipime the 
cheek that it will betray the guilty by a sudden rush 
of blood there ; so to fortify the hand and the frame thai 
they will not by trembling disclose the purposes of the 
soul. One of the first lessons which the guilty attempt 
to learn is this ; a lesson most difficult, and yet sometimes 
learned with ereat skill. That young man when he leaves 
his father's house to go to the theatre or to the gambling 
room, or to associate with the vile, begins at once to study 
how he may control his eye and his cheek, as well as hu 
words, in such a manner 'that they will not betray him 
— Nature would reveal the deed as soon as he comes intc 
the presence of his father or mother, if he would allovj 



SECRET FAULTS. 301 

her to speak out ; but he wishes to put on the appearance 
of innocence, and to be able to tell a lie as if it were the 
truth. That young man when he first pilfers the drawer of 
his employer, would betray the act the next moment if 
he were to allow nature to speak out, and did not put the 
eye and the cheek under discipline that they should not 
betray him. That man who has commenced a career of 
fraud and villany ; who abuses his trust, and perverts or 
abstracts public funds, would betray himself at once if 
he would allow his nature to speak out. But he drills 
and disciplines himself, and his eye is calm, and his coun- 
tenance is taught to be composed, and he speaks and acts 
as if he were an innocent man, and buries the conscious- 
ness of the crime deep in the recesses of the soul. Soon 
the brow is like brass, and the frame is schooled not to 
betray, and the living indexes of guilt which God had 
affixed to the body are obliterated, and the conscience is 
seared, and the whole man has departed from the beauti- 
ful form which God made, and has become an artificial 
and a guilty thing. 

Again. The arts of polished and refined life, to a me- 
lancholy extent, have the same object. They are so 
arranged as to conceal rancor, and envy, and hatred, and 
the desire of revenge. They aim not to eradicate them, 
but to conceal them. I speak, of course, not of all ; not 
I trust of the principal efforts which are made. I trust 
there is a much more pure and elevated code of morals 
among those who belong to the community called 'the 
world,' than there once was. Lord Chesterfield, who 
once gave absolute law to the fashionable world, and 
who was characterised by Johnson as * teaching the mo- 
rals of a woman of infamy, and the manners of a dancing- 
master,' led the way in this system of hypocrisy and 
deception. He himself was, not inappropriately, one of 
the first victims of the system. A favorite young man — 
an adopted son — to whom he wrote his celebrated letters, 
and on whom he lavished every possible means of educa- 
tion, was one of the first to conceal his own ( secret fault' 
in the marriage of a woman with whom a connection 
would have never met with his approbation, and with a 
sad and betrayed heart he lived to see that no confidence 
could be placed in his own hollow system. Yet who is 
26 



302 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

ignorant that the arts of polished life are often assumed 
for the most base purposes, and that with all that educa- 
tion can give, and all that accomplishment can furnish, 
man can < smile, and smile, and be a villain still V It is 
alleged not seldom that there are hypocrites in the church, 
and I do not deny that there may be. But there are 
hypocrites and deceivers elsewhere than in the church, 
and there is many a concealed purpose, many a secret 
fault in the bosoms of those l graced with polished man- 
ners and fine sense/ who have assumed an outward guise 
the better to impose on the world. 

(2.) Many secret sins are concealed because there is 
no opportunity of carrying the purpose into execution. 
The plan is laid, but some unforeseen occurrence prevents 
the execution of it, and it is abandoned. In some in- 
stances it may be cherished for years, and is not abandon- 
ed until the last hope of carrying it into effect fails. A 
man forms a purpose of revenge, and pursues it from 
year to year, and looks out for an opportunity to gratify 
it, until all hope fails, and then it is abandoned. Or, in 
more cases still, the plan is arrested by death, and the 
man dies with his wicked scheme unaccomplished. In 
the aggregate of the sins of this world, the number of 
unfinished plans of evil is not small ; the number of those 
who are hurried into eternity with their plans unexecuted 
is not few, and no man who forms such a plan knows but 
that he will be hurried away while his scheme of iniquity 
is just ripening No one knows, in the mysteriousness 
of sudden deaths, how many a just and merciful God 
takes away for the very purpose of arresting an unexe- 
cuted scheme of evil, and of saving the innocent from the 
wiles of the destroyer. 

(3.) Many faults are secret, because the individual has 
never been placed in circumstances to develop his cha- 
racter. He has innate propensities to evil of which he 
is unconscious, and which would be soon developed if he 
were placed in a favorable situation to show what he is. 
No small part of the virtue of this world is the result of 
circumstances. It is external and artificial. It does not 
reach and control the heart. It is formed by education ; 
or it takes its form from the prevalent opinions in society ; 
or it is a matter of convenience or policy. Beneath it 



SECRET FAULTS. 303 

there is latent evil never yet brought out, and corruption 
which has never been exposed. No one of us knows 
what we would be if we were so situated in life as to 
reveal exactly what we are. And none of us, therefore, 
should pride ourselves on our own supposed virtue, nor 
should we harshly judge our guilty fellows. They may 
have shown what they are ; we may have a nature quite 
as corrupt as they, and yet while they have wrecked cha- 
racter, and hope, and peace by their vices, we may be 
congratulating ourselves on our own purity, and priding 
ourselves on oar integrity. "Let him that thinketh he 
standeth, take heed lest he fall." 

(4.) Connected with this we may observe, that the re- 
straints of society conceal many a fault, and hide it from 
public view. The germ of the evil exists ; and when a 
favorable opportunity presents itself, it is manifested. 
The restraints around a young man in a refined family or 
neighborhood, often guard him. The authority of a 
father ; the mild influence of a mother ; the society of a 
sister, or the courtesies of life in the society in which he 
moves, preseiwe him. In a distant city, or in a foreign 
land, how different the fact in regard to him ! There the 
tendency of the heart is developed, and in scenes of 
amusement and sin the restraints of morality and of reli- 
gion he alike disregarded and renounced. 

Such are some of the ways in which the faults of the 
soul are concealed. Who is there that is not conscious 
that he has himself such secret faults ? Who is there that 
has not been training himself, though perhaps uncon- 
sciously, to conceal them ? Who is there that has not feel- 
ings and plans that he is not willing to disclose — not 
merely because he believes that another one has not a 
right to break in upon the secresy of his own feelings 
and views, but because he knows they are wrong ? If 
ths wish of some of the old philosophers that every man 
should have a glass in his bosom could be realized, how 
few would venture out in the streets at noonday ! What 
confusion, and blushes, and attempts at concealment would 
it produce in any promiscuous assembly ! How would 
the busy world seek the shades of night, and our houses 
be dens where we would seek to hide ourselves ! There 
is not a man among us that would be willing to have his 



304 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

thoughts for a single week — the purest week of his life — 
written down and read to an assembly like this. For the 
truth of this, I appeal to every man's own consciousness. 
And if this be truth, then what is the human heart ! 
What is man ! And with what propriety may each one 
urge the prayer of the text, and say, " Cleanse thou me 
from secret faults." 

III. I proceed, in the third and last place, to state some 
reasons why we should pray to be delivered from secret 
faults. I remark^, 

(1.) We should do it because we specially need the 
grace of God to overcome them. I presume most of us 
who have made the attempt to subdue the inborn pro- 
pensities of our nature to evil, have become entirely 
satisfied of our impotency in such an undertaking. Our 
external conduct we can better guard and secure. The 
restraints of education, of our professions, and of society, 
aid us much. Our calling may lead us into the circles of 
the refined and the pure ; our profession may be such as 
shall constrain us to act on the principles of honesty and 
honor ; our whole' success in life may be dependent on 
our external probity and consistency. To fall into open 
sin, in such circumstances, is rare ; and the prospect of it 
is not so great as seriously to alarm a virtuous mind. I 
believe, indeed, that it is only by the grace of God that 
we can be kept in the paths of external morality, and 
I put no great confidence in that untried and untempted 
virtue which is confident of a power to stand by itself; 
but still there are helps for the promotion of that virtue 
in the very frame-work of a well-organized society, on 
which we may place some reliance. But what protec- 
tion against secret sins is there around the human 
heart? W T ho knows it so well that he can guard the 
approaches to it ? Who can so well describe or under- 
stand the delicate laws of its associations as to be able 
to defend it from unholy thoughts ? Who can arrest the 
passage of that flitting unholy thought that comes from 
you know not where, and is brought you know not how, 
and that, however brief may be its stay, always leaves 
pollution behind it ? Who can safely analyze the laws 
of his own mind in regard to evil, and arrest and hold the 
train of polluted images long enough to know how to 



SECRET FAULTS. 305 

guard against them in future, without danger of finding 
a guilty pleasure in the contemplation, and desiring to 
retain them ? Who can arrest that tide of evil recollec- 
tions that comes pouring like a flood into a man's bosom 
from the remembrances of his past life ? Who can of him- 
self break the subtle chain of associated evil thoughts, or 
by an act of volition make a polluted mind pure ? And 
who — for I believe there is, and was, and is to be such 
an agency — who can foresee the approach of the great 
tempter, and shut up the avenues of the heart against him, 
and make his fiery darts rebound ? It is not in feeble hu- 
man nature to be successful alone in this warfare, and he 
who has but once made the experiment, will feel the pro- 
priety of applying to God to help him. More distressed 
and troubled by far at these secret faults than at the danger 
of external derilection from duty ; more downcast and sad 
at the triumph which sin gets over him than from losses 
of property or health ; more anxious for purity of heart 
than for gold, yea, than much fine gold, he will feel the 
necessity of looking to the Great Source of purity and 
strength for aid. For often the sadness on a man's coun- 
tenance is not from losses and the cares of this life ; not 
from the death of friends, or failure of business ; it is 
from this internal war — this heavy load — these fiery ar- 
rows — these secret faults — these unholy imaginings— 
these distressing inroads made by intruding plans of evil 
on his peace. i what would not I give,' may express 
the language of not a few, 'for one day of perfect purity 
— one day without an improper emotion, or an unholy 
feeling — one day when I should think, and speak, and 
act just as I ought to — one day like that of an angel ; — 
like a day of the life of Jesus ; like the passing moments 
of the ever-blessed God. For such a day of purity I 
would part with all earth's gilded baubles, and sacrifice 
the most brilliant schemes that this world can furnish. 
How sweet would sleep be at the close of such a day ! 
How blessed to live — to awake again to repeat it, and 
to walk with God in perfect holiness. come that 
blessed day when my heart shall be thus pure ; and when 
I shall sigh no more at night over the recollected errors 
and secret faults of the day, and when I shall feel that 
my easily-besetting sins shall torture my bosom no more V 
26* 



306 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

(2.) Such secret faults are peculiarly offensive to God, 
and we should, therefore, pray to be cleansed from them. 
The guilt of the wicked plan is not annihilated or dimi- 
nished in the view of the Searcher of hearts, because he 
chooses to arrest it by his own Providence, or because he 
never allows the sinner the opportunity of accomplishing 
it. Indeed the guilt of a long-cherished plan of evil, 
though it is never executed, may be much greater in his 
sight than an outbreaking of sudden passion, or a sudden 
yielding to temptation. Many an open act of sin is mo- 
mentary, and then is over. Wrath kindles hi the eye, 
and then as soon dies away. It is the passion of one, 

" That carries anger, as the flint bears fire, 
Which much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
And straight is cold again." 

But the plan of revenge, the proud and obstinate 
temper, the purposes of infamy, may be long cherished, 
and will constitute in fact the real character of the man. 
That will be far more hateful in the sight of God than 
the sudden burst of passion, or the solitary act of intem- 
perance, or even the deed of blood, for these may be the 
result of temporaiy excitement. So of forgotten crime. It 
has passed away from your recollection. But though the 
specific act has passed away from your remembrance, yet 
its effects have not. It left a withering and a blighting 
influence on your soul. You are a less happy man, and 
a less pure man than you would have been had it not 
been for the secret fault, though/that may have been long 
since forgotten. As fire that passes through the forest, 
leaves long desolation when the flame is extinguished, 
so has been the withering effects of sin on your soul — 
and God sees that soul scathed and blasted by the in- 
dwelling of former sinful thoughts and feelings. 

(3.) And I add, finally, that we should pray for this, 
because if secret faults are indulged, they will sooner or 
later break out like smothered fires, and the true charac- 
ter of the heart will be developed. Fires uncap a moun- 
tain because they have been long accumulating, and can 
be confined no longer. Streams that flow far under 
ground, somewhere, though far from the fountain, make 
their way to the surface. Disease that is long in the 



SECRET FAULTS. 307 

system, and that flows round and round in the blood, will 
at some time manifest itself, and so it is with the corrup- 
tions of the heart. They cannot always be concealed, 
and God designs that they shall not always be. It is 
well, under the divine administration, that the true state 
of the heart should be made manifest, and that it should 
be seen what man is. Accordingly, few things are more 
common, than such sudden developments of character, 
and outbreakings of the secret faults of the soul. We 
are often shocked by such cases, and our philosophy 
about man seems to fail, and we are at a loss to account 
for the instances of sudden depravity that appal the com- 
munity. A man of fair character, and enjoying universal 
confidence, becomes suddenly a public defaulter. A cler- 
gyman is guilty of some crime that shocks the moral sense 
of mankind. A man of supposed regular habits becomes 
suddenly intemperate. A man clothed with power, like 
Arnold, betrays his trust, and attempts to sell his country. 
A judge on the bench, like Bacon, shocks the world by the 
undisputed fact that he has been bribed. The community 
is horror-stricken, and we feel for the moment like dis- 
trusting every man, and doubting all virtue and all piety, 
and we are almost led to conclude that all our estimates of 
human character on which we have heretofore acted are 
false — and we ask, not improperly, who is safe ? In whom 
can we confide ? And we begin to distrust every clergy- 
man, and every officer, and every man of supposed in- 
tegrity and good morals in public life, and every judge 
on the bench. 

But these painful disclosures are not departures from 
the great principles of human nature. There is a maxim 
in law, that no one suddenly becomes eminently vile.* 
These melancholy lapses into sin are but exponents of 
the real character of the man ; the regular results of a 
long course of guilt ; the regular outbreakings of secret 
faults — like the breaking out of the volcano, or like the 
tumbling down of a bowing wall, or the fail of a house 
that has been long undermined by secret streams. In 
the case of the clergyman who becomes unprincipled and 
vile ; who shocks our moral sense, and degrades himself 

*^Nemo repente turpissimus. 



308 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

and his high calling by some public and shameful offence, 
we are not to suppose that this is a sudden fault or crime. 
There has been a long previous preparation. There has 
been a relaxing of the high sense of obligation, and of 
the sacredness of his calling ; there has been a train of 
evil thoughts, and unholy imaginings ; there has been an 
indulgence in guilty wishes, and the rovings of an im- 
pure eye and imagination ; — there has been a neglect of 
secret prayer and of communion with God — and God 
suffers him to fall, not merely to mark his detestation of 
the open crime, but of the long train of evil thoughts 
that have led on at length to so painful a catastrophe. 
The man who has betrayed his trust, and who shocks the 
community by some stupendous crime as a public de- 
faulter, we are not to suppose has been led by sudden 
temptation into the sin, or that the act which now amazes 
us is a solitary act. Back of that, there has been a series 
of secret faults that have been accumulating like pent up 
waters, and that now burst forth in an enormous act of 
guilt that sweeps away every thing that is valuable in his 
character, and that is peaceful in his domestic circle. 
The man who betrays his country, as Arnold sought, to 
do, does not perform such a deed by one act of sudden 
temptation. Far back in guilty pleasures, in extrava- 
gance of living, in secret dissatisfaction with his com- 
mander or his country, in disappointed ambition, envy, 
malice, or covetousness, is laid the foundation of the 
enormous crime, and the act of treason is just the expo- 
nent of the man's secret guilt. And the judge on the 
bench who disregards the purity of the ermine, and who 
sells justice for a bribe, does not do this deed alone. It 
is the result of secret crimes and guilty desires, of a weak- 
ened sense of honor and obligation, of habitual contem- 
plation of plans of evil, until the strength of guilt surpasses 
his sense of honesty and honor, and he falls to rise no 
more. And so our cherished secret faults will yet mani- 
fest themselves unless they are checked and removed by 
the grace of God, and by the blood of the atonement. In 
a pure heart only are we safe. The indulgence in unholy 
thoughts, and impure imaginings, and in the contemplation 
of guilty pleasures, no man, no matter what his rank or 
standing or external character, is safe. We are safe only 



SECRET FAULTS. 309 

when in the sincerity of our hearts, and in the deep con- 
sciousness of internal corruption and great feebleness, we 
can lift our eyes habitually to heaven, and say, " Cleanse 
us from secret faults, keep us back from presumptuous 
transgression." 

REMARKS. 

(1.) Who can understand his errors ? Who knows what 
man is? Who knows himself? We look upon the fair 
exterior, the polished manners, but who knows what is 
in the heart ? A man of forty feels that he knows much 
less of himself than he supposed he did at twenty ; and 
increasing years only serve to astonish him with the great 
deep of depravity in the human soul. His own heart is 
more and more an enigma ; and his observation of his 
own feelings teach him more and more to distrust him- 
self. We look on men high in office and in public confi- 
dence, we see them on an eminence, and a halo of glory 
seems to be around their heads, and then we see them 
suddenly fall into irretrievable ignominy, and we instinc- 
tively ask, who is safe ? Who is next to fall ? Who can 
be safely and wholly trusted? We weep over their fall. 
Let the effect be to lead us more and more to distrust 
ourselves, and to put our trust in God. 

(2.) We should be humble. The fall of others, and 
our own conscious sinfulness ; our deeds of forgotten 
guilt and our half-executed plans of evil, should make us 
humble. " Oh, why should mortal man be proud ?" 

' Follies and crimes, a countless sum, 
Are crowded in life's little span ; 
How ill, alas, does pride become 
That erring, guilty creature, man !" 

Our career has done but little to lift us up with pride 
in its recollection ; and our own course of life should 
produce any other feeling than self-congratulation in the 
retrospect. 

(3.) We have much to dread at the revelations of the 
day of judgment. Those secret faults of the sinner will 
be brought out to noon-day then. God will bring every 
secret thing into judgment. You have labored long and 
hard to conceal your purposes. You have supposed that 



310 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

the darkness of night might hide them. You have con 
gratulated yourself in the belief that they were unknown 
by the world. But there has been one eye upon you and 
your sins— one eye that has never been turned away by 
day or by night; and there has been a book of record where 
every word, and thought, and feeling has been written 
down ; and there is one mind that remembers all. Sinner^ 
for every evil thought, for every impure desire, for every 
deed of darkness, for every half-formed plan of evil, you 
are to give account to God. what a scene will be exhi- 
bited on the great day of trial ! Who can bear the revela- 
tions of that day ? Who of you could bear to have your 
past lives and feelings all drawn out and exposed in letters 
of living light to this congregation ? Who is there here 
that would not call on the mountains to shelter him, and 
the hills to cover him, at the prospect of such a revelation ? 
Not one. With no consciousness of sinfulness but such as 
I believe common to man ; with the recollection of the 
general aim of my life to do right ; with great occasion for 
thanksgiving that I have been preserved from the open 
vices that have ruined so many who began the career of 
life with me, yet I confess to you, that if there is any thing 
that I should more than all other things dread, it would be 
that the record of all my thoughts and feelings should be 
exhibited to the assembled universe in the last day. 
That the universe would acquiesce in my condemna- 
tion on such a revelation, I have no manner of doubt. 
And if there is any one thing for which I desire to give 
unfeigned thanks more than others, it is that through the 
blood of Christ, those sins may be blotted out ; and that 
through the infinite mercy of God the secret sins of which 
I am conscious, may never — no never — be disclosed to 
assembled worlds. 



SERMON XXI. 

PREPARATION TO MEET GOD. 
Amos iv. 12. Prepare to meet thy God. 

From these impressive and solemn- words, I propose to 
give an answer to the following enquiries : 

I. To whom may the command be considered as ad- 
dressed ? 

II. Why should a preparation be made to meet God? 

III. In what way are we to prepare for it ? and 

IV. When should it be done ? 

I. To whom may the command be considered as ad- 
dressed ? The general answer to this enquiry is obvious. 
It is to be regarded as addressed to all those who have 
made no preparation for meeting God ; I mean those who 
have never made this a specific and settled part of their 
plans, or who have not devoted their attention to it so 
as to have that done which is needful to be done. This 
class comprises a large portion of the human family ; a 
large portion of those to whom the gospel is preached. 
The idea is, that they have done nothing which can be 
considered as having been performed with reference 
to the future interview with their final Judge. They 
have done many things — and done them very well — with 
reference to other matters, but they have done nothing 
with a distinct desire and intention to be prepared to 
stand at his bar. 

This general description comprises several classes who 
may be regarded as especially addressed. 

(1.) Those who have designedly crowded the whole 
subject from their minds, and who have been unwilling 
to bestow any thought on it as a personal matter. They 
may have listened respectfully to the preaching of the 
gospel ; or they may have bestowed some attention on 
religion as a speculative enquiry, but they have inten- 
tionally resisted all its appeals to them personally. When- 
ever they have reasoned or conversed on the subject of 

311 



312 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

religion, it has been with an intention that it should make 
no personal impression on them. They have never allow- 
ed the warnings and appeals of truth to have any direct 
bearing on themselves ; nor in the whole course of their 
lives have they ever done one thing with a distinct and 
simple intention to be prepared to meet God. They 
have done nothing which cannot be accounted for on 
some other supposition, and they are conscious that they 
have never spent one half hour in their lives in doing any 
thing with a sole desire to be prepared to meet their 
Maker. 

(2.) This description embraces also those who have 
deferred the subject with an intention to prepare at a 
future time. They have some sense of the importance 
and necessity of making preparation. They see and ad- 
mit that something more is to be done than has been done. 
It is not their design that it shall be wholly neglected. 
But they have deferred doing what is necessary to be 
done — whatever they may suppose that to be— to a future 
period ; — one till he shall have finished his education ; 
another till he shall be more at leisure, and less burdened 
with cares ; another to a bed of sickness ; another to old 
age, or the hour of death. Whatever may be the mo- 
tives which lead them to delay it ; or whatever may be 
their views of what is necessary to be done, they agree 
in this, that it is not yet done, and that a preparation is 
yet to be made. 

(3.) There are embraced in this general class, also, 
those who have spent their time in preparing for other 
things, so as to crowd this subject out, though without 
any specific or settled intention to do so. They have been 
anxious to get ready for this life, and they have uncon- 
sciously, almost — or thoughtlessly, at any rate — neglected 
a preparation for a life to come. At one time they have 
been occupied in preparing for a journey or a voyage — 
and then it was crowded from the mind. Or the youth 
has been fitting for college, or for a profession ; or the 
young female has been engaged in acquiring skill in 
music, or solid learning, or preparing to adorn the refined 
circle ; or the young man has been preparing to be a 
merchant, or a mechanic; and a preparation to meet 
God has been — not exactly with design, but insensibly 



PREPARATION TO MEET GOD. 313 

neglected. It has not come before his mind as a matter 
of distinct enquiry, what is necessary to be prepared to 
meet God, as it has what is necessary to prepare him to 
act his part well in life — or if it has, it has been a mo- 
mentary suggestion, and the solution has been deferred to 
a future period, and he is now unprepared. 

(4.) The general description embraces, also, those who 
have given some slight attention to the subject, but who 
have settled down on that which will in fact constitute 
no preparation when they come to appear before God. 
They are relying on some delusive views and hopes ; 
some erroneous doctrine, or opinions ; some vague, un- 
settled, and unsubstantial feelings ; something that is dif- 
ferent from what God has declared to be essential to a 
preparation to meet him. It is immaterial to my purpose 
what that may be ; nor will I run the risk of exciting 
prejudice against what I am yet to say, by attempting to 
specify what I mean. The general remark is all that is 
needful here — that it is not every thing which will pre- 
pare a man to meet God. On some things we should 
agree — on others we might differ. We should agree that 
it is not a man's height or color ; not beauty or strength ; 
not talent or learning ; not wealth or adorning ; not ex- 
ternal accomplishments or professional eminence ; not 
splendid mansions or equipage, that constitute a prepara- 
tion to meet God. We might differ as to the point whe- 
ther amiableness and honesty ; whether a fair character 
and a life of integrity; whether, if we do right to men, 
though we neglect our Maker, some or all of these things 
would be a sufficient preparation. It is not needful to 
argue that point here. The general observation will be 
undisputed — that there is something which is required to 
prepare us to meet God, and that it is possible that we 
may be depending on something else rather than on what 
God demands. If it is not beauty that is required, it is 
something else ; if it is not wealth, it is something else ; 
if it is not accomplishment, it is something else ; if it is 
not amiableness, it is something else ; if it is not external 
morality, it is something else ; and we may be mistaking 
that which is not required for that which is: But in such 
a case it is clear that there would be in fact no preparation 
to meet God. 

27 



314 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

These classes, it will be seen at once, embrace a large 
portion of the human family. What with those who 
intentionally crowd the whole subject from the mind, and 
those who designedly postpone it to a future period, and 
those who in preparing for other things neglect a pre- 
paration to meet God, and those who make a false pre- 
paration — in the church and out of it — no one can doubt 
that a very large proportion of the community is em- 
braced. For the most solemn and important moment of 
existence no preparation is made, and the mass of men 
live as if it were never to occur. The use to be made of 
this fact belongs to another part of this discourse. I pro- 
ceed to the 

II. Second point of my discourse — to show why pre- 
paration should be made to meet God. Why may it not 
be left without special solicitude as an event where pre- 
paration would be needless ? The answers to this question 
will probably at once occur to every reflecting mind ; but 
though obvious, they are such as in the hurry and bustle 
of life we are prone to forget, and I will recall some 
of them to your recollection. They are such as the fol- 
lowing. 

(1.) Because it is to be our first interview with him, 
face to face. Here we do not see him. We attempt to 
trace the proofs of his existence in his works, and look 
" through nature up to nature's God" ; or we listen to 
his commands and threatenings in his word. But-he is 
unseen still, and the conception is faint and obscure. " No 
man hath seen him, or can see him and live." We trace 
along the proofs of his existence in his works from point 
to point ; but we do not see God. We stretch our eyes 
over the vast ocean, and see the proof that he is great ; 
but we do not see God in the distance. We follow the 
lightning's rapid flash as the clouds are covered with a 
blaze of light ; but that flash does not enable us, through 
the openings of the clouds, to see God. We seize the 
telescope and point it to the heavens, and look on rolling 
worlds, and penetrate into the unfathomable abyss where 
no numbers can compute the distance ; but still amidst 
those distant worlds and systems we have not seen God. 
We close our eyes in prayer, and address the invisible 



PREPARATION TO MEET GOD. 315 

and the great God, and attempt to form in our imagina- 
tions an image of what he is ; but we have not seen him. 
When we die we shall meet him face to face. It will be 
the first interview where the veil of flesh and sense will 
not obscure the vision ; and for such an interview with 
the Almighty God man should be prepared. 

(2.) We should make preparation because we shall 
meet him in very solemn circumstances. It will be away 
from friends ; from the body ; from the familiar scenes 
with which we have been conversant here. It will be 
when we shall be alone with God. It will be the next act 
that shall succeed the solemn act of dying. A man who 
is to meet God as soon as he dies, should make some pre- 
paration for it. If he were to meet him on a lonely 
mountain, like Moses, amidst clouds and tempests — though 
he had left many friends at the base — as he clambered up 
its steep ascent, he would feel that he ought to be pre- 
pared for that solemn interview. How much more when 
he leaves his friends weeping around his pale, lifeless body ; 
when he travels alone and disembodied, the untrodden, 
dark way up to God ; wiien he goes there without a friend 
or an advocate ; when he goes to come back no more ! 

(3.) We should make preparation because we go there 
on a very solemn errand. We go there not as idle spec- 
tators ; not to behold the glory of the divine dwelling 
and throne ; not as we often travel to other lands to see 
the works of nature, or the monuments of art ; but we 
go on the final trial, and with reference to the irreversi- 
ble doom of the soul. A man who is soon to be put on 
trial for his life, feels that much must be done with refe- 
rence to that important day in his existence ; and makes 
the preparation accordingly. Every thing about the kind 
of testimony on which he can rely ; every thing in the 
law, in the character of the judge and of the jury, be- 
comes to him a matter of moment, and he looks it all 
over with most anxious solicitude. He who should have 
the prospect of such a trial before him, and who should 
evince the same unconcern on these points which the 
mass of men do in reference to their trial before God, 
would be regarded as a fool or a madman. Should we 
go into his cell and find him engaged in blowing up bub- 



316 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

bles, or in some other trifling employment, manifesting 
the utmost indifference to all that we could say of the 
character of the judge or jury, or to the importance of 
being prepared for the arraignment, we should regard 
him as bereft of the characteristics of a rational being. 
On the issue of that interview with God depends every 
thing that is dear to us hereafter. There will not be a 
moment in all that boundless eternity before us which 
will not be affected by the results of that day's investiga- 
tion. To us, it will be the most solemn moment of our 
existence — a period to be remembered in all the days of 
our future being — as it should be anticipated with anxious 
solicitude in all the days that precede it. 

(4.) We should make preparation, because he has 
solemnly commanded it. With the utmost clearness and 
solemnity, he has required us to be ready. No part of 
the Saviour's instructions was more plain and solemn than 
to make this the first business of life. Every thing else 
was to give way to it. Not even love to a parent ; not 
the care of a family ; not the duty of hospitality to friends ; 
not even attendance on the funeral obsequies of a deceased 
relative were to interfere with this. First in our affec- 
tions; first in our efforts, we were to seek God; — and 
whatever else was neglected, that was not to be deferred 
for one moment. My friend, you value yourself on the 
fact that you are not an open violater of the law of God. 
You do not worship idols ; you do not profane the name 
of God ; you do not curse father and mother ; you are 
not a murderer, an adulterer, a thief, a liar. But here is 
a command as positive, as direct, as solemn, and I add as 
important as any one of these — -a command which you 
are habitually and of design neglecting. It is not mere 
counsel or advice ; it is the solemn command of the Most 
High, to be ready to meet him, to be prepared to give up 
your account, to be fitted for the final trial, to settle the 
great question of the soul's salvation as the fi?st thing in 
life. No one can doubt, that he meant to be understood 
as saying that this is his first claim on the heart, and 
that your first duty is there. 

(5.) We should make preparation to meet him, because 
when we are brought before him it will be too late to do 



PREPARATION TO MEET GOD. 317 

what is necessary to be done. The path up to the judg- 
ment-seat is not a way of preparation ; nor at his bar is 
it a place to prepare for eternity. It is no time to prepare 
for battle when the enemy is in the camp ; no time to 
make ready to meet a foe when he has broken open your 
door. There is such a thing as putting off preparation 
until it is too late. A man may neglect the care of his 
health, until it is too late. A student may suffer the pro- 
per time to prepare for a profession to glide away, until 
it is too late. A farmer may neglect to plough and sow, 
until it is too late. A man on a rapid stream near a 
cataract may neglect to make efforts to reach the shore, 
until it is too late. And so in religion. It is easy to put 
it off from childhood to youth ; from youth to manhood; 
from manhood to old age, until it shall be too late. Be- 
yond that interview with God, there is no preparation. 
Your eternity is not to be made up of a series of successive 
probations, where, though you fail in one, you may avail 
yourself of another. There is but one probation — how 
short ; how fleeting ; how soon gone ! The shuttle of the 
weaver flies not swifter; nor do the shadows move more 
rapidly over the plain. Each day leaves the number 
less— and not one of them can be recalled. Life is passed 
through not to be travelled over again ; and each foot- 
print is made to be seen by us no more. He that comes 
after us may track our way nearer and nearer to the beach 
where the ocean of eternity rolls ; he may see step after 
step in the sand — till he comes to the last print, half 
washed away by the tide, where we plunged into the vast 
ocean and disappeared forever. You go not back again. 
This day, this hour, you live but once — and this setting 
sun will have taken one irrecoverably from the allotted 
days of your probation. I wonder at man. The earth 
is our place of probation — and it is all — literally, abso- 
lutely all. In that probation, if ever, you and I are to be 
prepared for that vast eternity on which we enter in a few 
days. If not prepared then, we are never to be prepared. 
Point me, fellow-mortal, to the slightest proof whatever, 
or to the slightest presumption — I will not ask for proof — 
that another season of probation is to be granted to you 
beyond the judgment of the great day, and I will never 
urge this point again. But if there is none, my dying 
27* 



318 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

fellow-man, you ought to be prepared to meet God. It is 
not a thing of privilege, it is a thing of obligation. Your 
conscience, your reason, your sober judgment all respond 
to the claim which I urge upon you, that you should be 
ready to meet God. You who have adopted it as a set- 
tled purpose that you will not enter a profession without 
being prepared for it ; you who will not appear in the. 
gay assembly without hours spent, under skilful hands, at 
the toilet, that you may be prepared for it, ought to be 
prepared to appear before God. You ought to have 
on a brighter than any earthly array ; you ought to have 
on the garments of salvation — the pure and spotless robes 
wrought by the " Redeemer's hands and dyed in his 
blood." Not as you are now, sinful, unforgiven, gay, 
worldly, thoughtless, ambitions, should you stand before 
the great and pure Jehovah to receive the sentence which 
will seal your eternal doom. 

III. I proceed, in the third place, to show what is ne- 
cessary to be done in order to be prepared to meet God. I 
shall do this in the fewest words, and in the plainest 
manner possible. 

I would observe then, that mere bravery or courage is 
not a preparation to meet God. The soldier meets the 
cannon's mouth ; the duellist meets his foe on the field ; 
the strong man meets danger without shrinking ; the dying 
man on a bed of pain summons all his strength, and nei- 
ther trembles nor is alarmed — and bravely dies. Strong 
in physical courage, bis cheek is not blanched with fear, 
nor do his knees tremble at the approach of danger ; and 
friends and eulogists, patriots and historians, send the 
brave man to heaven. But I take it, God is not to be 
met with mere bravery or heroism. It is not physical 
courage that is to carry the point against the Almighty. 
The battery may be approached by the brave man ; mur- 
derer may meet murderer in the field, and look each other 
in the eye without quailing, but this is not the way in 
which man is to meet God— face to face, and eye to eye. 
Nor are courage, and defiance, and the fearless bearing 
which faces the cannon's mouth, that by which the king- 
dom of heaven is to be taken. The conquests of Caesar, 
Alexander, Napoleon, and Nelson stopped far this side 



PREPARATION TO MEET GOD. 319 

the eternal throne ; nor will bravery ever make an im- 
pression on the Almighty God. 

Not more is he prepared to meet God who bids defi- 
ance to death ; who can jest at the dying pang ; who 
summons all his vigor to maintain his infidel principles to 
the last, and who secures the eulogium from his friends, 
< He died like a man. He shrank not ; he feared not ; he 
trembled not ; and firm in his principles and integrity, he 
died like a man.' Like a man, exactly: — a proud, self- 
confident, sinful man. He has his reward. Some friend 
will rear a stone over his tomb, or pen a lying obituary 
notice that assures the world that he has gone to heaven ; 
and the lying epitaph shall delude hundreds, while his 
soul shall be in hell. But God is not thus deceived. Nor 
does forced and unnatural calmness, or miserable stupi- 
dity at the approach of death, beguile him with the belief 
that the man proud as Lucifer, though in death, has a 
claim to an admission to heaven. The indecent jesting 
of Hume when he died did not move God any more than 
the ravings and blasphemies of Paine or Voltaire. Nor 
is a studied insensibility in death the proper preparation 
to meet God. Insensibility is not what God has any 
where, either by reason or his word, required. It is no 
more manly than it is religious, to be insensible at the 
prospect of appearing at the bar of God. He who can 
sport on death's brink, and laugh at the idea of being 
brought on trial before the eternal bar, or cultivate a 
studied insensibility at the idea of eternity, has no more 
the spirit of a man than he has of a Christian. It is a place 
where man ought to feel ; where God meant he should 
feel ; and where all his nature commands him to feel. 

What is then necessary to prepare us to meet God ? 
I answer, 

(1.) It is necessary to be reconciled to him. No one 
is prepared to meet him to whom he is a stranger or a 
foe. No one can be prepared to meet him who has been 
at no pains to enquire into his character, or who has 
never sought to please him. No one can be prepared to 
meet him who has resisted his claims, and who has during 
his life put himself into an attitude of hostility to him. 
The man who has made it a point to resist every impres- 
sion which God would make on his heart : to crowd from 



320 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

his mind all the appeals which He has made to him; to 
have as little to do with him as possible ; never to think 
of him if he could avoid it, and, when it could not be 
avoided, to think of him only as severe, and harsh, and 
unjust in his claims, is assuredly not prepared to meet him. 
Could he avoid it, he never would meet him. Had he 
his own choice, he would prefer never to think of him 
again. But in order to meet him in peace, it is needful 
that the heart be reconciled to him. Enmity must be 
laid aside. He must be regarded as a friend ; and what- 
ever there is in the heart of hostility to him, or of dissatis- 
faction with his government and claims ; whatever dispo- 
sition there is to disregard or oppose him, must be laid 
aside. No man can be prepared to meet him who in 
form or in fact, in heart or in public conduct, regards him 
as an enemy. When we come to stand before God we 
shall wish to look on him as a friend, and not as an 
Almighty Foe. Hence, with the utmost propriety, the 
whole of the gospel is regarded as an exhortation to men 
to be reconciled to God. 2 Cor. v. 19, 20. 

(2.) It is necessary in order to be prepared to meet God, 
to be born again ; to be renewed by the Holy Ghost. A 
higher than man — he who is to decide our eternal destiny 
— has settled this without any ambiguity. " Verily, verily, 
I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot 
enter into the kingdom of God." John iii. 3. No matter 
what else a man may have, unless he has experienced 
this change, he will be excluded from heaven. It would 
be impossible to make a statement more explicit, or more 
alarming to large classes of men. The heart is deceitful. 
It betrays itself. And it is on this point constantly prac- 
tising a deception. You do not mean to be regarded as in- 
fidels — and you are not; you are not disposed to be ranked 
with scoffers ; you are not disposed to be the open enemy 
of any of the doctrines of the Bible ; but here there is a 
constant delusion playing around the heart, and a secret 
and most withering unbelief of the words of the Saviour. 
' You must be born again,' is the Redeemer's language, < or 
you cannot be saved.' Yet the feeling of the heart is, 
' there may be an exception in my case. My character for 
integrity or amiableness is such that it cannot be indis- 



PREPARATION TO MEET GOD. 321 

pensable for me, and the heart is, unconsciously almost, 
substituting something in place of the new birth. You 
do not depend on the fact that you have been born again 
as the evidence that you will be saved. Yon depend on 
something else — something which in your case will render 
such a change unnecessary. And when you think of 
meeting God, it is not with the evidence that the heart 
has been changed, but with something else that may then 
answer the purpose, or may be substituted in its stead. 

(3.) There must be true repentance for sin, and true 
faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. On this point, no one 
here will doubt what are the teachings of the Bible. " He 
that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, and he that 
believed not shall be damned." No declarations can 
possibly be more explicit than those which occur respect- 
ing the necessity of repentance and faith. They are 
addressed to all classes of mankind ; they admit of no 
exceptions. The man who, in the fair sense of the word, 
is a true penitent, and has true faith in the Lord Jesus, is 
prepared to meet God ; the man who is not a penitent, 
and who has not that faith, is not prepared to meet him. 
He may be prepared for other things, but he is not pre- 
pared for that hour when he will stand at his bar. He 
may be prepared to adorn a profession ; to charm in the 
social circle ; to preside on a bench of justice ; to occupy 
an exalted office; to go as an ambassador to foreign 
courts ; but he is not prepared to meet his Maker. He 
may be rich, honored, beloved, talented, learned, but he is 
not ready to meet God. You may be amiable, accom- 
plished, admired, flattered, but you are not prepared to 
meet God. For the truth of this, I plant my foot not on 
human reasoning or conjecture ; not on philosophy or 
fancy; but on the authority of the. Bible. 

The sum of what I say is this : To be prepared to 
meet God, we must comply exactly with what he requires. 
We must meet his terms. It is not what we would have 
supposed would constitute a preparation ; it is not what 
we may fancy will answer the purpose ; it is not what 
we may choose to substitute in its place. Arsenic will 
not supply the place of bread in supporting life, or oil 
the place of water in putting out a fire ; nor will amia- 
bleness, and accomplishments, and learning, and external 



322 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

morality supply the place of what God requires. You 
can find no substitute for reconciliation with God. You 
can find no declaration that you may be saved by mo- 
rality, or amiableness, or integrity, and that / must be 
saved by faith in the Lord Jesus. You can find no evi- 
dence that you may be saved by an upright life, and by 
your rank in society, and the poor and the down-trodden 
only by faith in the Lord Jesus. God makes no such 
distinctions among mankind. There are no such classes 
and grades in his kingdom. There are no royal paths to 
heaven. There are but two classes of people on earth — 
the righteous and the wicked. There are but two paths 
that mortals travel — the way to heaven and the way to 
hell. There are but two places at the judgment bar — 
the right and the left hand of the Judge. There are but 
two worlds beyond — heaven and hell — one the abode of 
the penitent and believing — the other of the impenitent 
and the unbelieving. There are no Elysian fields — where 
the proud, the gay, the fashionable, the impenitent may 
dwell — fields of fancy, of amusement, of poetry, of the 
dance and the song — or realms of irreligious literature 
and science, where those may dwell who do not like to 
retain God in their knowledge. 

No one ever need to have made any mistake on this 
point. If any one is ignorant of what is necessary in 
order to enter heaven, it is his own fault. It is not need- 
ful that any one should live without hope ; it is not need*- 
ful that any one should meet God unprepared. So plain 
is the account of this matter in the Bible that he may run 
that reads ; and if any man comes to a bed of death un- 
prepared, he does it with his eyes open. There is not a 
child here who cannot tell what is needful to be prepared 
to meet God ; and I am not mentioning any neiv thing to 
you when I remind you that what you are relying on for 
salvation is not what God requires. Your amiableness 
is not the love of God. Your morality is not religion. 
Your accomplishments are not faith in Jesus Christ. Your 
pride of heart and character ; your dependence on your 
own righteousness, is not repentance. Your indifference 
to religion is not the peace resulting from reconciliation 
with God ; your cultivated stoicism when you think of 
death, is not the Christian victory over the grave. Phy- 



PREPARATION TO MEET GOD. 323 

sical and moral courage ; the bravery which defies death, 
is not the qualification with which to meet God. 

IV. It remains only to add a remark on the fourth point 
proposed — the enquiry when we should prepare to meet 
God? You anticipate what I would say. You know 
what is the requirement in the Bible on that point. You 
have heard, to painful satiety, the arguments and com- 
mands which require us to do it now ; — to attend to it 
to-day ; to defer it no longer. You are familiar with the 
fact that the Bible requires it to be done at once ; that it 
demands that every thing else should give way for that ; 
that this day may end your probation, and that there is 
slender probability that preparation will be made on a 
dying bed. I might content myself with laying this com- 
mand across your path — ' Prepare to meet thy God.' I 
might go to the Bible, and bring appeals and commands 
almost without number, all pressing the point, < Prepare 
to meet thy God.' I might take you to the sinner's death- 
bed, and describe his dying horrors, and pointing you to 
that sad scene, say to you, < Prepare to meet thy God.' I 
might ask you to recall the cases of sudden death — when 
the young, the vigorous, and the lovely, die — and pointing 
you to their solemn warnings, say, i Prepare to meet thy 
God.' I might ask you to go and walk among the tombs ; 
to measure the length of the graves there, to find out whe- 
ther any die as young as you ; or to recall, as you stand 
there, the image of some dear departed friend, or the last 
accents and warnings of a mother, and say to you in that 
solemn scene, < Young man, prepare to meet thy God.' Or 
I might attempt a description of the scenes of the last day 
— of the rising dead ; of the descending Saviour ; of the 
throne of judgment ; of the alarm and horror of the sin- 
ner there ; of the awful doom which awaits him — and, 
standing by anticipation amidst these solemn scenes, 
might say, * Prepare to meet thy God.' I had thought 
of a different line of remark with which to close my ap- 
peal. I had thought of making your own sentiments 
speak out, and of exhibiting the reasoning which is pass- 
ing through your mind ; and when the command comes, 
I Prepare to meet God,' I had thought to say to you, as 
you say to yourself, < No — do not obey it now. It is 
doubtful whether it is for you. It is for that miserable 



304 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

wretch— the outcast of society. It is for that profane 
and drunken man. It is for the miserable heathen ; that 
poor slave; the weather-beaten seaman; the prisoner 
doomed to die; the profligate young man; the bold 
blasphemer. It cannot be for you, so amiable, so up- 
right, so moral. Regard it not— at least now. Enjoy 
that party which you have in anticipation; go into that gay 
circle where God is forgotten ; refuse to be found among 
the anxious and the troubled, who enquire the way to 
life. Not for you, so young, so vigorous, so full of hope, 
so loved, so anxious to please all ; not for you with such 
a chance of life, and with a character so amiable, can 
such a command be intended ; not for you certainly now, 
whatever may be in future years. Enjoy the world. 
Make much of it. Drive on its pleasures and its gains ; 
and forget the God that made you, and forget that there 
is a Saviour that died for yon, and that there is a grave, 
a heaven, a judgment, and an eternity.' But I must not 
speak so. Ye young of either sex ; ye children, youth, 
men ; ye amiable, upright, accomplished, moral, there is\ 
a grave ; a God ; a heaven ; a hell. I solemnly warn 
you as a minister of religion — myself soon to die — to be 
ready for death ; and were it my dying message, would 
say with the last lisping accents of my lips, ' Prepare xow 
to meet thy God ' Let not that sun set, I solemnly con- 
jure and charge you, in view of the judgment of the great 
day, without having done something — without having at 
least once prayed— that you may be prepared to meet 
God! 



SERMON XXII. 



THE BURDEN OF DUMAH. 



Isa. xxi. 11, 12. The burden of Dumah. He calleth to me out of Seir, 
Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the night? The 
watchman said, The morning cometh, and also the night. — If ye will en- 
quire, enquire ye. Return. Come. 

This is a single prophecy ; and a whole prophecy. It 
has no immediate connection with what precedes, or with 
what follows in the chapter ; and if it were taken out of 
the place which it now occupies in the Book of Isaiah, 
and placed in any other part of the Book, or even of the 
Bible, I do not see but it would be as intelligible as it is 
now. It is a striking specimen of the manner of Isaiah 
when he is full of a subject, and when, as is often the 
case, the prophetic words flow from his mouth not like a 
gentle and fertilizing stream, but like a torrent that has 
been obstructed, and that now. rushes impetuously over 
all barriers. It is also a specimen of his manner when he 
is ironical or sarcastic ; and when he designs to convey 
some truth of vital interest that shall reach the heart of a 
taunting enemy of God and his cause. The prophecy is 
abrupt, concise, enigmatical, obscure. It is probably little 
understood by most of the readers of this wonderful pro- 
phet, as it has been by most commentators. Yet, notwith- 
standing its obscurity, it is seen to be beautiful ; and there 
are few readers of the Bible who do not wish to under- 
stand it. It is capable, I think, of an easy explanation ; and 
is adapted to convey most important instruction alike to 
the friends and the enemies of God : — to the former, when 
desponding and disheartened in view of personal trials 
and calamities, or in view of a persecuted and distracted 
church, or of a darkened world ; — to the latter, when they 
are disposed to taunt the friends of God ; to revile them in 
suffering ; or to ridicule their solicitude for the coming of 
the kingdom of the Redeemer on earth. 

It is a vital part of the work of the ministry to explain 
28 * 325 



326 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

the Scriptures, and to show not only that the Bible is a 
book of eminent sublimity, truth, and beauty ; but that it 
is adapted to convey most valuable instruction and admo- 
nition for all classes of mankind. I propose, therefore, to 
submit an exposition of this very obscure, and yet very 
striking prophecy ; and in doing it, I shall, 

I. In the first place, endeavor to explain it ; and, 

II. In the second place, exhibit the lessons which it 
teaches, or apply it to the friends and the foes of God. 

I. In the explanation of the prophecy, it will be neces- 
sary to go somewhat into detail in an examination of the 
words and phrases of which it is composed. I will pro- 
mise, however, that this shall not be tedious or uninterest- 
ing to those of you who will give me your patient atten- 
tion. The prophecy is in these words : " The burden of 
Dumah. He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what 
of the night? Watchman, what of the night? The 
watchman said, The morning cometh, and also the night. 
If ye will enquire, enquire ye. Return. Come." 

(1.) The word "burden" in the text, is a common 
word in the prophecies, and especially in Isaiah, to denote 
a prophetic message, or an oracle. It is usually, not 
always, given to such a message as foretold punishment 
or calamity ; or such as was painful in its nature and 
adapted to weigh down the spirits. We have a similar 
idea in our language, when we speak of bad news as 
adapted to weigh down the spirits ; or of suffering and 
calamity that is fitted to oppress the mind. Of this na- 
ture were many of the messages which the prophets were 
directed to bear ; — messages predicting judgment and wo ; 
foretelling the calamities of war, of the pestilence, or of 
captivity, and portraying ruined temples, cities, and towns, 
— messages alike painful to him who bare them, and to 
those to whom they were addressed. Such, I take it,, 
was the message referred to here — a message indicating 
future calamity represented by the word night — 'the 
night cometh •' — a message oppressive and burdensome 
to the prophet, and painful to the taunting inhabitants of 
Dumah. 

(2.) The word " Dumah " in the text, is another name 
for Idumea, or the land of Edom. This countrv, settled by 
the descendants of Esau, the brother of Jacob, stretched 



THE BURDEN OF DUMAH. 327 

along on the south of Palestine, and extended as far as 
the southern extremity of the Dead Sea, and by conquest 
subsequently, far into the land of Moab. It is now a vast 
desert, travelled by wandering Arabs, and alike undistin- 
guished for agriculture or commerce. Its capital was in 
Mount Seir — a mountain range laying south of the Dead 
Sea, in a plain now called Wady Mousa — or the valley 
of Moses. This is the Mount Seir referred to in the text ; 
the place from which one is heard calling to the watch- 
man, and enquiring respecting the night. The reader of 
the popular modern travels will be able to identify this 
place when he is reminded that this is the site of the 
celebrated city of Petra, so recently discovered and ex- 
plored, and so fully described by travellers. Its site is a 
vast hollow in a mountain, with but a single way of 
access ; its structures now are vast tombs, and temples, 
and theatres, and palaces cut with infinite toil from the 
solid rock ; its inhabitants are the dead — and the living 
are not there, save when a Bedoui chieftain with his 
tribe passes along, or a lonely traveller spends a night in 
one of its tombs. 

(3.) Between Dumah or Idumea and the Jews, there 
had been a long hostility ; a hostility coming down from 
the strife between Jacob and Esau, and aggravated by 
all the bitterness of a family quarrel. The hostility was 
deepened when Moses led the children of Israel to the 
land of Canaan. The territory of Edom lay between 
him and Canaan, and he sent messengers to the king of 
Idumea to ask the privilege of peaceably passing through 
the land. " Let us pass, I pray thee," was the reason- 
able request, " through thy country : we will not pass 
through the fields, or through the vineyards, neither will 
we drink of the water of the wells : we will go by the 
king's highway, we will not turn to the right hand nor to 
the left until we have passed thy borders." Num. xx. 17. 
This reasonable petition Avas denied. Moses repeated 
the request. "We will go," said he, "by the highway; 
and if I and my cattle drink of thy water, then will I 
pay for it ; I will only, without doing any thing else, go 
through on my feet." Ver. 19. This repeated and re- 
spectful request was met with as decided hostility, and 
the armies of Edom were sent to guard the way, and to 



32S PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

harrass the Israelites on their march. Edom soon be- 
came the implacable foe of the Jews. It formed alliances 
with their enemies ; invaded their land ; rejoiced in their 
defeats, and triumphed in their calamities. The imme- 
diate and special event, however, to which there is an in- 
direct allusion in the text, was the unnatural and wicked 
exultation of the Idumeans when the temple at Jerusalem 
was fired, and the city was destroyed by the Chaldeans. 
Then, when calamity had come upon the whole Jewish 
nation, and when ail the sympathies of Edom should 
have been excited in behalf of his much afflicted kins- 
men, the descendants of Jacob, he joined in the exulting 
cry of the Chaldeans, and urged them on to the complete 
destruction of the holy city and the temple. " Remem- 
ber, Lord," said the Jews in their captivity, " remem- 
ber the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem," i. e. 
in the day when Jerusalem shall be rebuilt, " who said, 
Rase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof." Psalm 
cxxxvii. 7. Its enemies they urged on to the work of 
deeper destruction. They regarded the ruin as final and 
complete, and they exulted over desolate Judea, and the 
captivity of its inhabitants in Babylon. 

(4.) This is the time to which the prophecy in our text 
refers. It was during the captivity at Babylon, and near 
its close. The temple was in ruins, and the city and the 
land were waste. The situation of their once beautiful 
and much-loved country may be described in the lan- 
guage of this same prophet uttering the words which the 
captives would use. " Thy holy cities are a wilderness, 
Zion is a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation. Our holy 
and our beautiful house, where our fathers praised thee, 
is burnt up with fire, and all our pleasant things are laid 
waste." Isa. lxiv. 10, 11. This was the "night"— the 
long and chilly night referred to in the text ; the night of 
destruction that had settled upon Judea ; the calamity 
over which the dweller in Mount Seir was disposed still 
to exult. 

(5.) At -this time, and in this state of things, the pro- 
phet represents himself in vision as a watchman amidst 
desolate Jerusalem. It is night ; a long night of calamity 
and wo. He is stationed there to observe the approach 
of better times ; the indications of returning day. He is 



THE BURDEN OF DUMAH. 329 

looking anxiously to the East — the direction whence light 
appears, and whence the exiles would return to their 
own land. He is watching for the first ray of morning ; 
the first indication of returning prosperity, and of restored 
peace for long desolated Jerusalem. 

(6.) At this time, and in these circumstances, a voice 
is heard from Mount Seir, the capital of Idumea. " He," 
that is, some one, " calleth unto me out of Seir." It is 
the voice of taunting and reproach breaking on the still- 
ness and gloom of the night. ( Watchman, what of the 
night ? Watchman, what of the night ? What is the pros- 
pect ? You have watched long. Is there any sign of 
day ? Is there any ray in the East indicating the return 
of better times ? Is your patience still unexhausted, as 
you watch on during the long night, and amidst the deso- 
late ruins ?' 

(7.) To this the watchman answers. ' Yes. There is 
the appearance of day. The morning cometh. There is 
a ray in the East. I see the prospect of future happier 
days ; of deliverance from the exile ; of peace and hap- 
piness restored to the desolate land. I see the exiles re- 
turn ; the temple rise in its glory ; the city restored to its 
magnificence ; the land studded with villages and covered 
with vineyards and with flocks. I see the sun of pros- 
perity about to rise ; and I see, in the distance, the great 
Deliverer, as the light and glory of the world.' ' But,' 
he adds to the taunting Edomite, 6 1 see another thing. 
I see night coming too. I see times of calamity and deso- 
lation in the distance. It is not all light; not all pros- 
perity for all people. A long, black, chilly night is to 
come. It will come upon the land of Idumea. That 
taunting, scoffing land ; that land so hostile to the people 
of God ; that land whose inhabitants cried respecting Je- 
rusalem, Rase it, rase it to the very foundation, shall be 
enveloped in night, and covered with desolation. On that 
proud capital, from which the voice of reproach now 
comes, Watchman, what of the night ? the shades of a 
long and gloomy night are yet to settle ; a night darker, 
and more dismal, and of more lengthened shadows than 
that which has settled upon devoted Jerusalem and Judea.' 
( Yet/ adds he, ' if ye will enquire further, enquire ye. 
28* 



330 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

Do it, and yon shall obtain information. Return, come. 
Turn from your taunts and revilings. Come with a hum- 
ble mind, and even you may partake of the blessings of 
the light that I see dawning on the darkened land. Even 
Idumea — the long and bitter foe of God and of his people ; 
Idumea — taunting and scoffing ; Idumea, now reviling us 
for the long night of calamity and wo, may partake of 
the privileges of the pure religion that shall bless the 
land in the bright day which begins to dawn in the East.' 

Such I take to be the meaning of this brief prophecy. 
I proceed now, as was proposed, 

II. In the second place to exhibit the lessons which it 
is fitted to teach, or to make a more particular application 
of it. The application will be to two classes of men, and 
it will be found to contain important instruction for those 
who are, and those who are not, the friends of God. 
With a statement of these lessons my subject will be 
closed. 

(1.) We have, in the prophecy before us, an illustra- 
tion of the conduct of a taunting and a scoffing world; 
a world often disposed not to reason, but to make deri- 
sion of religion ; a Avorld always finding occasions, in 
some peculiar state of the church, or in some aspect of 
religion, for the exhibition of irony or scorn. { What of 
the night, watchman ? what of the night V was the sar- 
castic and contemptuous language of the bitter foe of 
Jerusalem, and of the nation that had exulted when it 
fell. Its ruins ; its desolate temple ; its dilapidated walls ; 
its grass-grown streets ; its broken-down hedges ; its 
wasted fields, were the topic of derision. Carmel, once 
a fold for flocks, and the splendid plain of Esdraelon, now 
run oyer with briers and thorns, and the nation in exile 
in a distant land, and the lonely and pensive watchman 
looking long, as was supposed, in vain for the return of 
day, furnished then the topic of the taunting enquiry. 

You will not forget that m the time of this same exile, 
the feelings of the pious were tried in a similar manner 
in Babylon. I use their own pensive and beautiful lan- 
guage. « By the rivers of Babylon there we sat down ; 
yea, we wept when we remembered Zion. We hanged 
our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For 
there they that carried us away captive required of us 



THE BURDEN OF DUMAH. 331 

a song ; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, 
saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. How shall 
we siug the Lord's song in a strange land ?" Ps. cxxxvii. 
1—4. 

11 Along the banks where Babel's current flows, 

The captive bands in deep despondence strayed ; 
While Zion's fall in sad remembrance rose, 
Her friends, her children mingled with the dead. 

The tuneful harp that once with joy they strung, 
When praise employed and mirth inspired their lay 

"Was now in silence on the willows hung, 

While growing grief prolonged the tedious day. 

Their proud oppressors, to increase their woe, 

With taunting smiles a song of Zion claim ; 
Bid sacred praise in strains melodious flow, 

W T hile they blaspheme the great JEHOTiu'sname." 

Thus too, when they returned again to their own land, 
and when they recommenced the building of the city and 
the temple, they furnished a new topic of derision. " What 
do these feeble Jews?" said their scoffing foes. "Will 
they fortify themselves ? Will they revive the stones out 
of the rubbish which are burnt ? Even that which they 
build, if a fox go up, he shall even break down their stone 
wall." Nehi iv. 2. 4. No one can fail to remember also 
the manner in which the Redeemer of the world was met, 
and the scoffs and jeers which he encountered in his life 
and at his death. When argument failed, how common 
was it to taunt and revile him ! When confuted by 
reason ; when reproved by conscience ; and when losing 
their own power and popularity, his foes decked him in 
the cast-off robes of royalty, and twisted a diadem of 
thorns around his bleeding brow, and placed a reed in his 
hand, and made him the sport of the multitude. Even 
when he was on the cross, they reviled and taunted him. 
" Ah, thou that destroyest the temple, and buildest it in 
three days, save thyself and come down from the cross." 
Who ever before or since reviled a sufferer on a cross? Who 
ever ridiculed a man on the gallows ? And where else but 
in ridiculing religion do men lay aside all the tender and 
kind feelings of their nature, and insult the miserable, and 
delight in the anguish of the dying ? I need not remind 
you that in nearly all ages the calamities, and trials, and 



332 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

hopes, and plans, and efforts of the church have been the 
subject of derision and merriment by the world. The 
u Xazarenes " was the name by which they were known 
in ancient times ; and the name of Methodist and Puritan 
have at different times been used for the same end ; 
until all such names have been made respectable by the 
virtues of those to whom they were first applied in scorn. 
I need not remind you that the Lord's supper has been 
made the subject of merriment: that the Bible has been 
travestied by infidels: that revivals and missions have 
been the subject of jesting and of scorn : and that the 
slender success of the plans of the church for the conver- 
sion of the world, have all been met with the spirit of the 
man crying from Seir, U Watchman, what of the night ?" 
Not need I remind you of a celebrated prophecy, which 
has certainly come to pass, whatever may be said of the 
visions of Isaiah and Ezekiel about Babylon, Tyre, or 
Egypt, ••' And there shall come in the last days scoffers, 
walking after their own lusts, and saying where is the 
promise of his coming?" 2 Pet. in. 3, 4. Such scoffers 
there have been ; such there are : such there will be ; 
— and when they are encountered we should not suppose 
that any strange thing has happened unto us. 

I do not regard this as an age distinguished by any 
means, for scoffing or reviling on the subject of religion. 
It may not be an age as distinguished for profound think- 
ing as some others that have passed, for men are too 
active, and too full of enterprize, to sit down in the closet 
or the cloister for patient and deliberate thought. Still it 
is an age when the great mass of men, in this land at 
least, feel and believe that the subject of religion is to be 
treated respectfully ; that to ridicule the opinions of others 
is a breach of politeness if of no higher law ; an age too 
when you can usually get a candid hearing for whatever 
you have to say in favor of evangelical religion, of revi- 
vals, and of Christian missions. ^Scoffers are the excep- 
tion: they do not give character to the age. They are 
the few, not the many ; the few marked bv the breach of 
the common laws of urbanity no less than by the violation 
of the laws of heaven. 

Yet there are some such : — some who, like the man 
calling from Mount Seir, are disposed to meet religion 



THE BURDEN OF DUMAH. 333 

with taunts and reproaches. You may meet such a man 
occasionally in a stage-coach or a steam-boat — a man as 
deficient in sound knowledge and good breeding as he is 
in respect for God ; — for when man loses his respect for 
his Maker, he at the same time loses his respect for all that 
is commendable and good. You may sometimes meet a 
young man — bred to better things, and with early oppor- 
tunities for becoming useful and respected — who has 
confounded flippancy with manliness, and mistaken con- 
tempt for the opinions of the wise and great, for independ- 
ence of mind — a young man who begins by torturing 
the feelings of a sister and a mother ; and who ends, as 
all such young men will, in the contempt and scorn of ail 
that is good, and in the utter wreck of character ; for 
when a young man has learned to trifle with the feelings 
of a sister and a mother, there is no step in the descend- 
ing scale of infamy which he is not prepared to take. 

Lord Shaftesbury, perhaps for the love of parodox, and 
perhaps to perplex others, held that " ridicule is the test 
of truth ;" and the enemies of religion have not been slow 
to act on this precious maxim — a maxim that aided Ga- 
lileo so much in perfecting the telescope, and Newton 
in discovering the laws of the universe, and Hervey 
in discovering the circulation of the blood, and which 
has been just as valuable in religion as it was in those 
sciences ! It has lived to our time ; and it is accomplish- 
ing just as much for the welfare of men now as it did 
in the possession of its noble author. How invaluable a 
maxim for a man who is travelling to eternity ! How 
easy it is to settle every question about religion and morals ! 
How sovereign a specific for turning aside the arrows of the 
king of terrors, and driving away the chills of death, and 
causing the thunders of justice around the throne of God 
to sleep, is it to sit down and deride them all ! How easy 
to be saved, if the only condition of salvation is to revile 
the sorrows, the joys, the hopes, and the plans of the 
people of God ! 

(2.) We have in the response of the watchmen, " The 
morning cometh," an illustration of the times of light and 
prosperity in the church destined to succeed those of ca- 
lamity. The watchman saw the light in the distant east. 
He saw the day breaking, and the indications of returning 



334 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

morning. This, as has already been intimated, included 
probably two things. (I.) He saw, in vision, the exiles 
returning to their own land ; and, (2.) In the distant future 
he saw the glory of the church ; its splendor and prosperity 
after the darkness ; its glorious Deliverer— the Messiah, 
and the light from his coming spreading over all the na- 
tions of the earth. Future times of glory should succeed 
the calamities of the seventy years desolation ; and a 
brighter day than any before was yet to dawn upon the 
world. 

Let us, without forcing this unnaturally, endeavor to 
apply it to some similar circumstances. It is not from 
direct prophetic vision that we shall do it, but by the 
application of some of the well-understood principles of 
the Bible. 

We may apply it to the individual Christian in the 
midst of calamity. To him the morning cometh. " Weep- 
ing may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morn- 
ing." Ps. xxx. 5. It is true of every individual Christian 
that to him, when he is pressed down by calamity and 
sorrow, the morning cometh. Long he may watch ; and 
" hope deferred may make the heart sick f and his faith 
may be ready to faint, but still it is true that to him brighter 
times will come, and on him the day-star of hope and 
salvation will arise. Or even should his trials continue 
till life shall close, and should night follow night full of 
gloom, still he sees a light above in heaven. Beyond the 
confines of all this darkness his eye beholds the beams of 
eternal day ; a world where the sun never sets, and where 
light dwells forever around the throne of God. 

" There is a home for weary souls 

By sin and sorrow driven; 
When tossed on life's tempestuous! shoals, 
Where storms arise and ocean rolls, 

And all is drear but heaven. 

There, faith lifts up her cheerful eye, 

To brighter prospects given, 
And views the tempest passing by, 
The evening shadows quickly fly" 

And all serene in heaven." 

Thus too it is of the church universal. In her darkest 
hours, it was true that brighter days were to dawn. The 



THE BURDEN OF DUMAH. 335 

eye of faith could look forward to future periods when 
the storms of persecution would subside, and the fires of 
martyrdom would go out. As in the long desolations of 
wasted Judea, the watchman could look onward, and see 
the distant day dawn in the east, so it has always been 
with a persecuted and afflicted church. The shadows 
would pass away, and a brighter and purer light would 
rise upon the benighted world. So it is now. We suffer 
not indeed the evils of persecution. Our land is not, like 
Judea, laid waste. Our country is not a wilderness, nor 
are our temples burned up with fire. But there is often 
not a little in the contentions, and strifes ; the ambition, and 
the crooked policy of portions of the church ; the worldly- 
mindedness and the inconsistencies of its members, to 
try the faith of those who love Zion, and to give occasion 
to the taunt of the scoffer, and the raillery of the profane. 
So too in the enterprize for the conversion of the world. 
f What is the prospect of its conversion ?' asks the scoffer. 
1 What advance has been made ? Who have been re- 
claimed from Pagan darkness ? What is the character 
of the converts on heathen ground ? How long will it 
be ere the world is converted at the rate of the present 
efforts, and the present success V — There is an answer to 
all this. As surely as the ' watchman' saw the light in 
the east rising on desolate Judea, so surely does the eye 
of faith see the light of salvation rising on a darkened 
world, and so surely can it be said, ' The morning cometh.' 
The night of sin is to be succeeded by a long bright day. 
The shadow of death which for six thousand years has 
stretched over hill and vale, is to be dissipated by the 
rising of the Sun of righteousness. Those shadows will 
roll off from the earth, as you have seen the cloud of dew 
climb up the mountain side, and waste away as the sun 
ascended, until all was gone, and his unobstructed beams 
poured down on the world below. 

There is one thing only that is certain in the future his- 
tory of this world — its conversion to God and to the true 
religion ; — and that is as certain as the destruction of 
Babylon was when Isaiah foretold it ; as the ruin of Tyre 
was when Ezekiel said it would be a barren rock on which 
the fisherman should dry his net ; as the desolation of this 
same Idumea and Petra was when God said by the pro- 



336 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

phets, " I will make Mount Seir most desolate, and cut 
off from it him that passeth out, and him that reiurneth ; 
and I will fill his mountains with his slain men ; in thy 
hills, and in thy vallies, and in all thy rivers, shall they 
fall that are slain with the sword. I will make thee per- 
petual desolations ;" " the cormorant and the bittern shall 
possess it ; the owl also and the raven shall dwell in it ; 
and thorns shall come up in her palaces, nettles and 
brambles in the fortresses thereof; and it shall be an 
habitation of dragons, and a court for owls ;" Ezek. xxxv. 
7—9; Isa. xxxiv. 11. 13, 14; as certain as was the de- 
struction of Jerusalem, when the Lord Jesus, sitting on 
the brow of the Mount of Olives, and looking down on 
the devoted city, said, "The days shall come upon thee, 
that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and 
compass thee round, and keep thee in on every side, and 
shall lay thee even with the ground, and thy children 
within thee." Luke xix. 43, 44. All this, to the letter, 
has been fulfilled. With equal clearness God has fore- 
told the conversion of this whole world to himself. — 
" From the rising of the sun even unto the going down 
of the same, my name shall be great among the Gentiles, 
and in every place incense shall be offered to my name, 
and a pure offering ; for my name shall be great among 
the heathen, saith the Lord of hosts." Mai. i. 11. "So 
shall they fear the name of the Lord from the west, and 
his glory from the rising of the sun." Isa. lix. 19. " The 
earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the 
waters cover the sea." Isa. xi. 9. " And the Gentiles 
shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy 
rising. The abundance of the sea shall be converted 
unto thee, and the forces of the Gentiles shall come unto 
thee. And the Gentiles shall see thy righteousness, and 
all kings thy glory, and thou shalt be a crown of glory in 
the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand 
of thy God." Isa. lx. " The wilderness and the soli- 
tary place shall be glad, and the desert shall rejoice and 
blossom as the rose. The glory of Lebanon shall be 
given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon ; they 
shall see the glory of the Lord and the excellency of our 
God. And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and 
come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their 



THE BURDEN OF DUMAH. 337 

heads ; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow 
and sighing shall flee away." Isa. xxxv. The duration 
of any existing kingdom or dynasty on earth is unknown ; 
the perpetuity of any splendid commercial capital is un- 
known ; the preservation of any existing civil institutions 
is a point on which no one of the Burkes and the Can- 
nings of the world, with their almost prophetic sagacity, 
can reason with certainty ; but the conversion of this 
whole world to God is as fixed as his own throne, and 
constitutes the only landmark that is set up in the 
future. 

(3.) In like manner we have, in the response of the 
watchman, an illustration of a third important fact — the 
night of calamity that is coming on a sinful and scoffing 
world. ' The morning cometh — and — also — the night ;' 
morning, as I understand it, to desolate Jerusalem ; night, 
long and chilly night, to taunting Petra and Idumea. < I 
see/ said the watchman, ' I see not only approaching 
morning, but also approaching night. I see a bright 
day dawning on the afflicted people of God, but. I see, 
in the distance, also, the dark shades of night. I see 
the friends of God returning from exile to their now deso- 
late land, and a long career of glory and honor before 
them. But — I see night for their foes ; night for their 
taunting enemies ; night about to settle on Mount Seir 
and the whole land of Idumea.' And such a night ! 
What is Petra, the once proud capital of Idumea, now ? 
A city of tombs ; a sepulchre of the dead. True, its 
theatre and its temples are there engraved in the eternal 
rock ; its dwellings are there, sculptured with all the skill 
of ancient art. But it is solitary and still. Ages rolled 
by, when to the civilized and the Christian world its very 
site was unknown. It was hidden in the towering rocks ; 
and a night of centuries, unbroken by one ray of civili- 
zation or prosperity, has rested upon the whole land of. 
Idumea. The foot of the traveller has indeed once more 
passed through Idumea, and to Petra. The wayfaring 
man has gone from a Christian land ; and what has he 
found ? He has found a. city of the dead ; a place of 
tombs ; a desolate capital of a desolate land, as Ezekiel 
and Isaiah, two thousand five hundred years ago, said it 
29 



338 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

would be. He has found no dweller there ; he sees no 
living human being but the wandering Arab stealing 
along among the habitations of untenanted Petra, and 
claiming the desolation as his own. " I would," said our 
own countryman, Stephens, when there, " I would that 
the sceptic could stand, as I did, among the ruins of this 
city among the rocks, and there open the sacred book, 
and read the words of the inspired penman, written when 
this desolate place was one of the greatest, cities in the 
world. I see the scoff arrested, his cheek pale, his lips 
quivering, and his heart quaking with fear, as the ruined 
city cries out to him in a voice loud and powerful as that 
of one risen from the dead ; though he would not believe 
Moses and the prophets, he believes the hand-writing of 
God himself in the desolation and eternal ruin around 
him."* 

Now, in this night of desolation and ruin, we have an 
illustration of the night that is yet to come on a sinful and 
scoffing world. What a place of prosperity and splendor 
— the thoroughfare, the emporium of the commerce of 
the East — was once that proud city ! To what magnifi- 
cence did it arise ! Yet what a fall ! What a night ! Thus 
night is soon to settle on guilty and scoffing man — the 
night of death. It comes — how chilly ; how gloomy ; 
how long ! No matter what the pride,, and wealth, and 
talent of the scoffer ; no matter what his rank or his 
standing ; yet to him the night approaches, and he must 
die. A few more days of prosperity will end all ; and 
the tongue of the profane man and of the scoffer will be 
silent in the grave. Young man, or aged ! If a scoffer ; 
if a reviler of God ; if a taunter of father, or mother, or 
sister, for being a Christian ; if a reviler of the church, 
or of the church's Redeemer, I apprize you that the day of 
taunting and reviling will soon cease. I apprize you that 
there will be no raillery or reviling in the grave, or at the 
bar of God ; and I remind you that it is equally odious 
and wicked here. Listen, one moment, to an extract 
from what the leader of modern infidels — shame that the 
immortal mind has ever acknowledged such a leader — 

* Travels in Arabia, Egypt, &c. vol. ii. 76. 



THE BURDEN OF DUMAH. 339 

has called " Solomon's jest-book." — " Because I have 
called, and ye have refused ; I have stretched out my hand, 
and no man regarded ; but ye have set at nought all my 
counsel, and would none of my reproof ; I also will laugh 
at your calamity, I will mock when your fear cometh." 
Prov. i. 24, 25. 

Thus too, a dark night of calamity and storm shall come 
not only upon the individual scoffer, but upon the whole 
wicked world. The morning of glory will dawn on the 
church redeemed; destruction fearful and awful as in 
that solemn night when the angel of death went through 
the tents of Sennacherib, shall come ; and the guilty shall 
be doomed to wo. On all the wicked the night of de- 
struction comes, as certainly as destruction impended 
over Petra, and Babylon, and Tyre, and Jerusalem, when 
the prophets and the Saviour looked far into future times, 
and told what they would be. The same prophetic eye 
has looked on the future doom of guilty man; and the 
same voice that with such fearful certainty told what 
Jerusalem would be, has said " AH that are in their graves 
shall hear the voice of the Son of man and shall come 
forth ; they that have done good to the resurrection of 
life, and they that have done evil to the resurrection of 
damnation." The same Spirit of inspiration that indited 
the prophecy respecting Dumah, has also caused to be 
recorded these words : " The day of the Lord will come 
as a thief in the night ; in the which the heavens shall 
pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt 
with fervent heat; the earth also and the works that are 
therein shall be burned up." 2 Pet. iii. 10. So certain 
as desolation reigns where once was proud and guilty 
Babylon ; so certain as Petra is a lonely city of the dead ; 
so certain as Tyre is a solitary place where the fisherman 
spreads his net, so sure is it that fire and flame will spread 
over the hills and vales of the earth, and that final and 
irremediable destruction from the presence of Jehovah 
shall come upon the guilty. God said of Dumah, (Isa. 
xxxiv. 5. 4. 8.) " My sword shall rush as if intoxicated 
[with wrath] from heaven ; behold it shall come down 
upon Idumea, and upon the people of my curse to judg- 
ment. And all the hosts of heaven shall be dissolved, 
and the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll ; for 



340 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

it is the day of the Lord's vengeance. "* So his ven- 
geance shall come upon a guilty world; and so beneath 
his uplifted arm the wicked shall die. 

(4.) There remains one other idea on which, in conclu- 
sion, I may make a remark. The thought occurs in that 
part of my text, " If ye will enquire, enquire ye ; return ; 
come." That is, if you — the despiser and the scoffer — will 
enquire in an humble manner; if you will come with 
proper reverence and respect, and will turn from your 
sins, it may be done. Light will stream also along your 
path ; and the sun of prosperity will ride up your sky, 
and will pour down his noontide radiance upon you also. 
The man who ridicules religion ; he who travesties the 
Bible ; he who makes the new birth, the atonement, and 
the promise of heaven the subject of merriment ; he who 
derides the piety of a sister and the solicitude of a mother 
for his salvation ; he who laughs at the efforts of Christians 
to convert the world ; and he who makes a mockery of 
death and the judgment, even he may learn the way to life, 
and partake of the much-despised blessings of pardon and 
salvation. If he will forsake the ways of derision ; if he 
will enquire on this subject in a manner appropriate to its 
importance ; if with a candid, humble, docile mind, he will 
approach the oracles of God, light shall break in upon his 
mind, and the beams of an eternal morning find their way 
to his heart. " The meek will God guide in judgment, and 
the meek will he teach his way." But who can instruct 
a scoffer ? Who can teach that young man who is already 
too wise to be taught even by the God that made him ? 
Who can instruct him who is too wise to enquire ; him 
who lives to deride sacred tilings; him who lives to make 
a jest of death and a mockery of the judgment ? I pity 
the scoffer. — I have no deeper compassion for any one 
of the misguided sons of mortality than I have for that 
ill-informed and misdirected young man who is too wise 
to learn where Newton learned, and too proud to bow 
where Bacon bowed his mighty mind ; — for that unhappy 
and wretched man — standing over the grave, and near 
the bar of Almighty God, who lives to make derision of 

* For the propriety of this translation, I may be permitted, perhaps, to 
refer the reader to ray Notes on Isaiah on this place. 



THE BURDEN OF DTJMAH. 341 

the agony of the Saviour, to mock his Maker on his 
throne, and to scoff at the God who keeps him out of 
hell ! Do I address such an one ? Let me tell you, there 
is neither wisdom, nor wit, nor talent in this. It secures 
the approbation of no one whose good opinion is of value. 
It will secure not your own approbation when you die. 
It will plant daggers in your dying pillow. Let me re- 
mind you that life is not lengthened out by a jeer ; that 
the shades of the chilly night roll on towards you while 
you laugh ; that to ridicule religion alleviates none of the 
agonies of dying and the terrors of the judgment seat, and 
that the flames of hell are not made a thing of nought by 
a jibe. Let me tell you, in the spirit of my text — -that 
serious, sober, humble, prayerful enquiry on the subject 
of religion, will conduct to the favor of God and to hea- 
ven ; — any other spirit leads down to the dark shades of 
eternal death ! Do you then say to me, i Watchman, 
w T hat of the night? Watchman, what of the night?' I 
reply, the morning cometh to the church redeemed ; — the 
glad" morning of deliverance to the afliicted Christian, 
and the morning of the resurrection and of eternal glory 
to all who bear the image and the name of the Son of 
God : — and also night cometh to the scoffing sinner — the 
chilly night of death — the night of wo eternal to all who 
deride, despise, or neglect religion. If ye will enquire 
further, it may be done. Even now return to the Lord 
with a humble, penitent, and believing heart, and he will 
be found of you ; and to our God, and he will abundantly 
pardon. Isa. Iv. 7. 



29* 



SERMON XXIII. 



THE HARVEST PAST. 



Jeremiah viii. 20. The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we 
are not saved. 

Man is placed upon the earth that he may prepare for 
eternity. His errand in this world is not to gain its 
wealth, to secure its honors, or to taste its pleasures. 
He has time enough to prepare well for a boundless 
existence, hut he has none to lose ; he may make each 
hour send ah influence ever onward into the intermi- 
nable duration before him, but if it is suffered to pass 
by unimproved it cannot be recalled ; he may make the 
whole of life a probation, but he can convert no part 
of eternity into a preparation for what is beyond. As a 
season of preparation for eternity, life may be regarded 
as sustaining the same relation which spring and summer 
do to the harvest. There is a time to plow and sow, and 
there is an appropriate time for the harvest, and if these 
are neglected, a gloomy winter sets in when there can be 
no sowing, and when it will be too late to secure a harvest. 
There are favorable seasons in life to secure salvation. 
They are, one after another, fast passing away. When 
gone they cannot be recalled ; and the favorable influence 
which might have been secured to bear on our future 
being is gone forever. We can no more recall it than 
the farmer can command the sun of spring-time to rise 
again, or the showers and dews of summer to come down 
in the dreary winter. The opportunity of salvation will 
have passed away forever. 

These truths I wish now to illustrate, by employing 
the text with the same design with which it was first 
used in reference to the Jews. Thers was a time when 
they might have obtained the favor of God; a time, 
when, if they had listened to his voice by the prophets, 

342 



THE HARVEST PAST. 343 

their temple, and city, and nation might have been spared. 
Bat it was now too late. That time had passed away, 
and could not be recalled. The forbearance of God was 
exhausted, and their beautiful house of worship, their 
city, and their land were to be given up to destruction. 

In illustrating the subject before us, I shall submit to 
you a series of propositions which will at once command 
your assent, and which, I trust, will lead to the conclu- 
sion to which I desire to conduct you, that no time is to 
be lost in securing the salvation of the soul. 

I. Life is made up of a series of probations. Its 
various parts are favorable periods for affecting the 
future. The present may be so used as to be of advan- 
tage to us hereafter. From the present we may send an 
influence forward that shall meet us in time to come, and 
that shall be worth to us there more than all which it 
cost us. 

These various modes of expressing the thought mean 
substantially the same thing, and are repeated only that 
there may be no possibility of misunderstanding the 
import of the proposition. A few illustrations will make 
this general truth plain. 

(1.) Life is a probation in regard to the friendship and 
favor of our fellow-men. We do not at once step into 
their confidence without a trial. There is no original 
presumption in regard to our character, our learning, our 
talents, our capacity for business, which will secure us 
the confidence of others without trial. There may be no 
presumption against us except that which always exists 
in relation to the depraved tendencies of a fallen nature, 
but there is none in our favor which can be used as 
capital with which to claim their confidence. Even 
when there are all the advantages of birth, and blood ; 
of hereditary honor, patriotism, or talent, the world 
demands of us evidence that we are worthy of its confi- 
dence before that confidence is bestowed. The favors 
which it has to confer, are reserved for those who shall 
evince in suitable circumstances that they are worthy of 
the trust, and that they have endowments which will fit 
them for the performance of the duties to be discharged. 
It is in this way only that we can secure a reputation for 
commercial integrity or professional ability ; that we can 



344 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

gain an office in the state that may be of value to us, or 
the friendship of the wise and good ; or that we can lay 
the foundation for lasting usefulness or fame. Many a 
man thus toils through a long and weary life to secure by 
his good conduct something which his fellow-men have 
to bestow in the shape of honor or office, content at last, 
if even when gray hairs are thick upon him, he may 
lay his hand, on the prize which has glittered before him 
in all the journey of life. 

(2.) Especially is this true of the young. Of no young 
man is it presumed that he is qualified for office, or busi- 
ness, or friendship, until he has given evidence of such 
qualification. I have found in my own expe'rience, and 
as far as my observation has extended, have seen that 
the world is kindly disposed toward young men, and 
that there are no interests so dear that men are not will- 
ing to commit them to their hands when they are satisfied 
that they are qualified to defend them, and to transmit 
them to future times. All the blood-bought blessings of 
liberty ; all the endowments of colleges and schools ; all 
the offices of the state, and all the interests of religion and 
benevolence, they are willing to entrust to the young as 
soon as they have evidence that those interests will be 
safe in their hands ; and then, those who have bled, and 
toiled, and labored hardest for these things, and who 
have prized them most, will lie calmly down and die ! 
But they demand evidence that the young are qualified 
for the trust before it is committed to their hands ; nor 
will the chairs of the presidents and professors in our 
seminaries of learning ; nor the seats of senators or 
judges ; nor the pulpits or the executive offices of the 
land, be confided to the young until by their lives they 
have convinced those who hold them at their disposal 
that they are worthy of the great and momentous trust. 

(3.) The study of a profession, or apprenticeship, is 
such a probation. It is just a trial to determine whether 
the young man will be worthy of the confidence which he 
desires, and it will decide the amount of honor or success 
which the world will give him. The world is keen-eyed 
in regard to this ; much more so than most young men 
are aware. There is an eye of public vigilance on every 
young man from which he cannot escape. The world 



THE HARVEST PAST. 345 

watches his movements; learns his character ; marks his 
defects ; records and remembers his virtues. There is an 
arrangement in the course of events that will determine 
his future life in accordance with the character which he 
has formed, and from which he cannot escape. There is 
an unseen, but withering influence that attends a young 
man that is idle, dissipated, or unprincipled, that will go 
with him, like an evil genius, to distant climes ; that will 
cross oceans with him, and start up to meet him in polar 
snows or on barren sands; that will stand in his way every 
where, and that he cannot escape. And there is a happy 
influence, of more value than the fabled genius of So- 
crates, which will go with every young man, who, by 
industry and early virtue, has shown himself worthy the 
confidence of mankind, and which will attend him around 
the world. 

(4.) The whole of this probation for the future often 
depends on some single action that shall determine the 
character, and that shall send an influence ever onward. 
Every thing seems to be concentrated on a single point. 
A right or a wrong decision then settles every thing. The 
moment when in the battle at Waterloo, the Duke of Wel- 
lington could say, " This will do," decided the fate of the 
battle, and of kingdoms. A wrong movement just at that 
point might have changed the condition of the world for 
centuries. In every man's life there are such periods; and 
probably in the lives of most men their future course is 
more certainly determined by one such far-reaching and 
central decision, than by many actions in other circum- 
stances. They are those moments when honor, wealth, 
usefulness, health, and salvation seem all to depend on a 
single resolution. It seems to be a small matter for a 
young man to deliberate whether he shall or shall not 
partake of a social glass of intoxicating drink with a 
friend ; and yet on the result of such a deliberation has 
depended the whole career of many a man. So it may 
seem a small matter for him to visit a gambling-room, 
or a theatre once ; or to form a friendship with some 
well-introduced and genteel looking stranger ; and yet 
the whole of his future destiny may depend on the 
decision of that moment. The reason is this. It is the 
crisis of the life. It settles a principle. It determines 



346 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

whether he will listen to the voice of reason and con- 
science ; to parental counsel and to God, or whether he 
is to be under the control of passion and appetite. Every- 
thing is concentrated on that point — like one of Napo- 
leon's movements at the bridge of Lodi, or at Austerlitz. 
If that one point is carried, the whole field may soon be 
won. In the decision which a young man often makes 
at that point, there is such a breach made on his virtuous 
principles ; there is such an array of temptations pouring 
into the breach — like an army pouring into a city when 
a breach is made in a wall — that henceforward there is 
almost no resistance, and the citadel is taken. Of all 
those who have become the victims of intemperance, it 
would be found, probably, that the mischief was done at 
some such decisive moment in their lives ; and of those 
who have lived honored and useful lives, it might also be 
found that their whole career was determined by some 
single act of decided resistance to temptation. 

II. My second general remark is, that when a time of 
probation is passed, it cannot be recalled. If it has been 
improved aright, the advantages which it conferred in 
shaping the future life, will abide ; if it has been misim- 
proved or abused, it will be too late to repair the evil. At 
no subsequent period can the advantages be secured 
which might have been secured then. This principle is 
so plain .that it will be admitted to be true without an at- 
tempt to prove it. An illustration or two will prepare us 
for the use which I intend to make of it. 

A young man is fitting for a profession, or for com- 
mercial life. If he suffers the time usually allotted to 
such a preparation to pass away in idleness or vice, it 
will soon be too late to recall his neglected or wasted op- 
portunities. There are advantages in preparing for a 
profession in youth, which cannot be secured at a subse- 
quent period of life. A young man is professedly ac- 
quiring an education. If he suffers the time of youth to 
be spent in indolence, the period will soon arrive when 
it will be too late for him to repair the evil. In the ac- 
quisition of languages; in the formation of industrious 
habits ; in cultivating an acquaintance with past event-:, 
he has opportunities then which can be secured at no 
other time of life. At no future period can he do what 



THE HARVEST PAST. 347 

he was fitted to do then, and what ought to have been 
done then. Whatever opportunities there were then to 
prepare for the future, are now lost, and it is too late to 
recall them. The period has passed away, and all that 
follows must be unavailing regret. We cannot roll the 
wheels of time backward. We cannot return and travel 
over the journey anew. We cannot place ourselves in 
the past where we now see that we missed the way, and 
direct oar steps in the right path. Seldom does a man find 
gray hairs admonishing him that life is soon to end, with- 
out having occasion to recall many such neglected oppor- 
tunities ; many abused privileges; much wasted time and 
talent, and no small part of the lives of old men is filled 
with regrets at the remembrance of sue!] abused mercies. 
It may seem like a digression from my main design, 
but I cannot here withhold a remark on the amount of 
abused and wasted talent every where in the world. I 
advert to it to call the attention of the young to what 
they may soon have occasion to regret with tears. It is 
the fact that so much time is squandered, and so many 
opportunities neglected, where a happy influence might 
be sent forward to future years, but where preparations 
are now making only for a harvest of woes. " What a 
fool yon are, Paley/' said a young man in a British 
university, " to be wasting your time in idleness and dis- 
sipation. You have talents which might raise you to 
eminence. I have none ; and it is of no consequence 
how I act." Paley took the hint, though roughly made, 
and rose like a clear light, and shed a lustre on the age 
and the literature of his nation, and England boasts no 
son of greater acuteness, perhaps none of wider influence 
than he. Let any one with the recollections of his own 
wasted hours, and with any just views of the value of 
time, look over this or any other city or land, and he can- 
not do it but with emotions of unutterable sorrow. In all 
our cities, towns, and villages; in even our colleges and 
schools, there is talent that is now buried, ruined, wasted : 
that is now, and that is to be in this world and the next 
a blighting and a curse, that might adorn the bar, the 
senate, or the pulpit ; that might resist with success the 
evils of profligacy and infidelity, and that might bear 
every blessing of science and civilization around the 



348 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

globe. From those lips which now give utterance to 
horrid blasphemy, the gospel " in strains as sweet as an- 
gels 1186," might " whisper peace ;" and those frames 
now hastening to the dishonored grave of the drunkard, 
might endure the cold of northern climes, or the heat of 
Arabian deserts, in diffusing the blessings of civilization 
and Christianity; and those hands that will soon tremble 
as if palsied by age under the influence of intoxicating 
drinks, might make the wilderness and the solitary place 
glad, and the desert blossom as the rose. All that we 
would ask to secure the conversion of this whole world 
to virtue, would be merely the talent that is now prepar- 
ing to be a blighting and a curse. Soon to that mass of 
expanding youthful intellect the opportunity of preparing 
for future usefulness will have passed away ; and it will 
be too late to prepare to accomplish any thing for the 
welfare of mankind. I need not pause here to remark on 
the painful emotions which visit the bosom in the few 
cases of those who are reformed after a wasted and dissi- 
pated youth. Cases of such reformation sometimes occur. 
A man after the errors and follies of a dissipated early 
life ; after he has wasted the opportunities which he had 
to obtain an education ; after all the abused care and 
anxiety of a parent to prepare him for future usefulness 
and happiness, sometimes is aroused to see the error and 
folly of his course. What would he not give to be able 
to retrace that course, and to live over again that abused 
and wasted life ! But it is too late. The die is cast for 
this life — whatever may be the case in regard to the life 
to come. 

III. The general propositions which I have endeavored 
to illustrate, are true in a much more important sense in 
regard to religion. The proposition, as applicable to reli- 
gion, is, that there are favorable seasons for securing the 
salvation of the soul, which if suffered to pass away 
unimproved, cannot be recalled. There are times in the 
life of each individual which may be regarded as the 
"summer," or the "harvest," in reference to salvation; 
and which, if suffered to pass away unimproved, will 
leave the mind to unavailing regret that it is now too late. 
The grand purpose, as I have already remarked, for which 
God has placed us on earth, is to prepare for what is be- 



THE HARVEST PAST. 349 

yond the grave. It is not to obtain wealth, or to acquire 
honor, or to enjoy pleasure here ; it is to prepare for the 
world beyond. This could be easily shown did my sub- 
ject call for it, or were it a proposition that would be likely 
to be disputed. One consideration is enough now. It is, 
that all the honors, and wealth, and learning, and worldly 
happiness which man can gain, are wholly dispropor- 
tionate to the vast powers with which God has endowed 
us. They leave a " void," an impression which we can 
never get rid of, that we were made for a higher and nobler 
purpose. It would be unlike God to create such vast powers 
for so unworthy ends ; and men must, and will, and should 
look forward to the retributions of another state. On the 
same principle, therefore, on which he has made future 
character and happiness in this life dependent on our con- 
duct in those seasons which are times of probation, has he 
made all the eternity of our existence dependent on the 
conduct of life regarded as a season of probation. And on 
the same principle on which he has appointed favorable 
seasons for sowing and reaping, he has appointed favor- 
able seasons to secure our salvation. For it is no more to 
be presumed of any man without trial that he is prepared 
for heaven, than it is that a young man will be a good 
merchant, lawyer, or physician, without trial. 

There are periods, therefore, which God has appointed 
as favorable seasons for salvation ; times when there are 
peculiar advantages for securing religion, and which will 
not occur again. There are advantages in regard to sal- 
vation at those periods of life which can be found at no 
other period ; seasons of favorable influence which may 
be called the " summer," and the " harvest time," for be- 
coming Christians, which can be secured at no other pe- 
riod of life. If the advantages of such seasons be suffered 
to pass away unimproved, they cannot be recalled, nor 
can they be secured at any other period, any more than 
the youth who has been idle while he should have been 
preparing for future life, can ever find the same advan- 
tages again. Let us, at this stage of our remarks, look at 
some of those seasons. 

Foremost among them is youth — the most favorable 
time always for becoming a Christian. Then the heart 
is tender, and the conscience is easily impressed, and the 
30 



350 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

mind is more free from cares than at a future period, and 
there is less difficulty in breaking away from the world, 
and usually less dread of the ridicule of others. Then 
numerous promises in the Bible meet us, assuring us that 
God loves those that love him, and that they who seek 
him early shall find him. No peculiar promise is made 
to man in middle life, or in old age. The time of youth 
compared with old age has about the same relation to 
salvation, which spring-time and summer compared with 
winter, have with reference to a harvest. The chills and 
frosts of age are about as unfavorable to conversion to 
God as the frosts and snows of December are to the cul- 
tivation of the earth. He who suffers the time of youth 
to pass by intending to become a Christian when he is 
old, is acting in about the same way in which he would 
act, who should suffer the genial suns of April, and May, 
and June to pass by, and should intend to strike his plough 
in the soil when stern winter throws his icy chains over 
streams and fields, and when the whole earth has become 
like a hard rock. The great mass of those who are saved, 
are converted in early life ; and when that season passes 
away, it is like the passing away of spring and summer 
in reference to the harvest. At no future period of life 
can you find the same advantages for becoming a Chris- 
tian. You may live many years ; and in future life I do 
not deny that you may find some advantages for becom- 
ing religious, and I do not deny that you may then become 
a Christian. But whatever there was in that season that 
was peculiarly favorable will return no more, and can be 
found no where else. And when you have stepped over 
the limits of youth unconverted, you have gone beyond 
the most favorable time you can ever have for preparing 
for heaven. But suppose that youth is to be all of your 
life, and you were to die before you reached middle' life, 
what then will be your doom ? 

A season when your mind is awakened to the subject 
of religion, is such a favorable time for salvation. All 
persons experience such seasons ; times when there is an 
unusual impression of the vanity of the world, of the 
evil of sin, of the need of a Saviour, and of the import- 
ance of being prepared for heaven. These are times of 
mercy, when God is speaking to the soul. AH men, I 



THE HARVEST PAST. 351 

say, experience them. They do not occur, indeed, often 
in political excitements ; in the pressure of business ; in the 
struggles of ambition ; or amidst the dense throng that is 
crowding on for gain or honor. But they occur when 
those stormy scenes are lulled to repose, or in the inter- 
vals when the mind is turned away from them ; in the 
evening, when weary and sad, you come home to ihe 
quiet of the family ; in the stillness of the Sabbath, when 
the thoughts are turned to the world of rest ; in the sanc- 
tuary, when the words of the gospel drop like the rain, 
and distil like the dew ; in the moments of calm retro- 
spection, when a man sits down to think over the past, 
and when he cannot but think of the life to come ; on the 
bed of sickness, when he is shut out from the world, and 
in those moments when he thinks, he scarcely knows 
why, of the grave, of judgment, of eternity. Those are 
'summer' suns in regard to salvation. Compared with 
the agitations and strifes of public life, they are with re- 
ference to salvation what gentle summer suns are to the 
husbandman, compared with the storm and tempest 
when the lightnings flash, and the hail beats down the 
harvest which he had hoped to reap. And the farmer 
may as well expect to till his soil, and sow and reap his 
harvest, when the black cloud rolls up the sky, and the 
pelting storm drives on, as a man expect to prepare 
for heaven in the din of business, in political conflicts, 
and in the struggles of gain and ambition. But all — all 
that is favorable for salvation, in such serious moments, 
will soon pass away, and when gone they cannot be re- 
called. They are favorable moments, sent by a merciful 
God, to recall you from the world, and to prepare you 
for heaven. Improved, they are like the summer sun in 
reference to the harvest. Lost, or neglected, they are like 
the passing away of spring, when not a furrow has been 
turned, or a seed sown. 

A revival of religion, in like manner, is a favorable 
time for securing salvation. There are influences on your 
heart when others are pressing into the kingdom, which 
exist at no other period of your life. It is a time when 
there is all the power of the appeal from sympathy ; all 
the force of the fact that your companions and friends 
are leaving you for heaven ; when the strong ties of Tove 



352 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

for them draw your mind towards religion ; when all the 
confidence which you had in them becomes an argument 
for religion; and when, most of all, the Holy Spirit 
makes your heart tender, and speaks with any unusual 
power to the soul. But such a time, with all its advan- 
tages, usually soon passes away ; and those advantages 
for salvation you cannot again create, or recall — any more 
than you can call up the bloom of spring in the snows of 
December. 

I might, were there time, go on to say, that there are 
advantages for becoming a Christian when on a bed of 
sickness ; or when in a pious family ; or when you fall 
in with a pious stranger ; or when you are sitting in the 
sanctuary; or when some truth powerfully arrests your 
attention. All these, and all kindred seasons, are the 
" summer" and the " harvest" of salvation ; and all con- 
stitute a part of our probation with reference to the world 
to come. What advantages a youth has for becoming a 
Christian, who has a pious father and mother ; for whom 
prayer is daily offered at the family altar, and for whom 
a parent feels the deepest solicitude that he should be 
saved ! What advantage a young person has in the Sab- 
bath-school for becoming a Christian, whose teacher seeks 
to guide him in the paths of salvation ! — They are " sum- 
mer" suns in regard to eternal life, and they furnish 
advantages which can no where else be found. 

But all these will soon, 0, how soon, be gone. Life 
will soon be all travelled over. Not one of these advan- 
tages can be recalled. Gone will be every Sabbath ; gone 
every season of instruction in the family and the Sabbath- 
school. You will soon have listened to the last sermon, 
and the last admonition of a friend. You will soon have 
passed through the season of youth, and then of middle 
life, and then of decrepid age. You will soon have felt 
the last strivings of the Spirit, and witnessed the last 
revival of religion. You will soon have seen the com- 
munion administered for the last time, and heard your 
pastor offer the last prayer for your salvation. Every 
favorable circumstance for preparing for heaven in youth ; 
in the Sabbath-school ; in the sanctuary ; in vour own 
feelings, and in the efforts of your friends, will soon have 
passed away ; and not all the gold of Ophir could buy 



THE HARVEST PAST. 353 

their return, even for a moment. The " harvest will 
have passed, and the summer ended" — whether you are, 
or are not saved. 

Could man retrace his steps, and repair his follies, life 
would be a different thing. But the journey of life is 
like that of a man who is passing through a land full of 
diamonds and gold, to be traversed but once — and where 
they diminish in beauty, in number, and in value, every 
step he takes. What if he should pass all over that 
journey and not have gathered a diamond or a particle 
of gold — amused by the warbling of birds, or led by 
some < Jack o' lantern ■ that danced along his path ? 
Thus travels man over the journey of life, charmed by 
some trifle that turns off the mind from its great object, 
until life is ended, the harvest is past, the summer is 
ended, and the soul is not saved. The harp, the song 
and the dance allured the youth ; business and ambition 
controlled the man ; the love of honor and of gain drove 
away every serious thought; the Sabbath came and 
went ; years rolled on, and he has come to the end of the 
busy, the gay, the unsatisfactory journey, and it is now 
too late, and he dies without hope. Every favorable 
influence for salvation has been neglected or abused ; 
and he goes up the untrodden way to God, saying « the 
harvest is passed, the summer is ended, and I am not 
saved.' 

IV. The unpardoned sinner dies. Let us, in conclu- 
sion, look a moment at the various classes who will utter 
this unavailing lamentation, and the reflections of the soul, 
as it goes unforgiven up to God. 

Such words will be uttered by the aged man who has 
suffered his long life to pass away without preparation to 
meet his Judge. He has seen many days. He has spent 
a long, and perhaps a pleasant " summer" of life. He 
may have risen high in wealth and honor. He may have 
been entrusted with important offices, and have been 
eminent for talent. He may have gained all that he 
hoped when he began life, and all that this world can fur- 
nish to its votaries. He may have been favored with all 
the means of grace ; nay, he may have been not an inat- 
tentive hearer of the gospel. But his long life is closing. 
His summer is ended, and he is not saved. With all 
30* 



354 FRACTICAL SERMONS. 

that he has gained, he has failed to acquire the one thing 
which alone now would be useful to him. He has lived 
to slight the offers of mercy from year to year, and now 
as he goes to eternity he can only take up the lamenta- 
tion, " the harvest is passed, and I am not saved." 

The language of the text will be uttered at last by 
the man who often resolved to attend to the subject of 
religion, but who deferred it until it was too late. He 
was a professed believer in the truth of religion, and he 
intended to be a Christian. He read much, and thought 
much, and often resolved to defer it but little longer. At 
twenty, at thirty, at forty, at fifty years of life he resolved 
that if he lived a little longer he would become a Christian. 
When a youth he resolved that he would attend to it, 
should he become settled in life. He became settled, but 
was burdened with unexpected cares, and resolved then 
to seek religion at some future period. At one time he 
resolved that he would be a Christian should he be 
afflicted. God laid him on a bed of pain, and he found 
then, what he had often been told in vain, that a sick- 
bed was a poor place to prepare to die ; and then he 
promised in solemn covenant with God that if he were 
spared he would lead a different life. He was restored, 
and as before forgot his promise. Life with him has 
been but little else than a series of unfulfilled resolutions 
to be a Christian. Every resolution has failed ; and at 
the end of life, it remains only for him to say, " the sum- 
mer is ended, and I am not saved." 

These words will be uttered by the thoughtless and 
the gay. Life to them has been a summer scene in more 
senses than one. It has been — or they have tried to 
make it so — just what a summer day is to the gaudy 
insects that you see playing in the rays of the setting sun. 
It has been just as volatile, as frivolous, as useless. In 
regard to the great purpose for which God made them 
immortal, and placed them in the world when his Son 
died for sin, they have accomplished just as much as 
the insect does that spends its little day in playing in the 
sun-beams. At no time could they be persuaded that 
the gay summer of fashion would pass away ; or that the 
chill November of retribution would come at last ; or 
that these glittering scenes of life must ever be left ; or 



THE HARVEST PAST. 355 

that they had any more important business in living than 
could be found in dress and amusement. But the time 
has come at last, when all this gaiety and vanity is to be 
left. The beautiful summer, that seemed so full of flowers 
and sweet odors, passes away. The sun of life hastens to 
its setting. The circle of fashion has been visited for the 
last time ; the theatre has been entered for the last time ; 
the pleasures of the ball-room have been enjoyed for the 
last time ; music has poured its last notes on the ear, and 
the last silvery tones of flattery are dying away, and now 
has come the serious hour to die. The gay summer is 
ended, and as the soul leaves the body these disregarded 
words will come to remembrance, "the harvest is passed, 
the summer is ended, and I am not saved." 

Thus too it will be with him whose mind was often 
serious ; with him who not seldom witnessed a revival 
of religion ; with him who was trained in a pious family, 
and who always meant to be a Christian ; with him who 
was half convinced, and who began to break off his sins; 
with him who was admonished by a dying parent to be 
prepared to meet him in heaven, and who meant to be 
thus prepared ; with all that vast throng of all ages and 
characters who are placed on earth to prepare for heaven, 
who miss the great errand of their being, and who come 
to the close of life having really done nothing for their 
salvation. Those opportunities will all soon be gone to 
return no more. That dying father will speak to you no 
more ; that departing mother will entreat you no more to 
be prepared for heaven ; and at the end of all, the lamen- 
tation will be, < the summer is ended, and I am not saved/ 

With not a few here, it is not improbable, life will close 
in this manner. When too late you will remember the 
interesting invitations of the gospel, and your solemn re- 
solutions. You will remember the sanctuary, the Sabbath, 
the Sabbath-school teacher, the pastor. You will remem- 
ber the times when you were serious, and when you were 
half resolved to be a Christian. You will remember your 
life of gaiety, or vice ; your days when you sought plea- 
sure, and when for the baubles of this life you jeoparded 
your soul's salvation. 

At the close of all you will say, < It is ended, and I am 
not saved. I have trod life's flowery way, and the jour- 



356 PRACTICAL SERMONS. 

ney is over, and I am not saved. I have visited the house 
of God, and been entreated to attend to my soul ; but I 
am iioav to go there no more, and I am not saved. I 
have climbed the steeps of ambition, and I have sought for 
honor, and all that struggling is over, and I am not saved. 
I have mingled in the gay circles of life, and all that is 
ended, and I am not saved. I have ranged the fields of 
pleasure, and trod along the flowery streams of life, and 
my rambles are ended, and I am not saved. I have re- 
solved, and re-resolved to be a Christian, and all is now 
over, and I am not saved. I have crossed oceans, and 
visited other lands, and now am about to embark on the 
ocean of eternity, and visit an undiscovered country from 
which I am not to return, but I am not saved. Closed is 
the summer of life ; ceased is the voice of friendly admo- 
nition ; gone are my opportunities of salvation ; youth, 
strength, conviction for sin, the Sabbath, the privileges 
of the sanctuary, all are passed away, and I am not 
saved.' 

0, on how many beds of death is this language heard ! 
0, how many an unpardoned spirit goes up to God, say- 
ing, ' the harvest is past, the summer is ended, and I am 
not saved !' What are the sighings of despair but the 
lamentation, ' the harvest is past, the summer is ended, 
and we are not saved V Sinner, the ' summer' is passing 
away ; youth is hastening to manhood ; and manhood is 
hastening to the grave. Sabbaths are hastening away, 
and privileges are hastening away, and soon, how soon, 
may your lips on a dying bed take up the lamentation, 
' the harvest is passed, the summer is ended, and I am 
not saved.' 



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Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: May 2006 

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